“O stars that shine on the fields of home,
What do they now, whom most I love?”
“They have ceased to roam, to roam,—
And are lisping a prayer at their mother’s knee;
And that prayer, and her tears, are for thee, for thee!”
[THE COSSACK MOTHER]
My little one will die to-night
(Then break, my heart, oh, break!);
But ’twill not be a lonely flight