’Twas mother-love that did such cure devise
For bud-nipped hopes and hearts unreconciled;
We slept, and dreamed, on this—and then, the morning smiled!
Time passed. We never saw the Kings. Ah, well—
At least the two of us saw not, I know.
But how shall I the wonder of it tell?
There came a winter wild and dim with snow.
It seemed to us that sheeted ghosts did go
Upon the wind, that never ceased to moan.
And one of us with fever was laid low: