To call its crushed affections home and count the treasures left,
With trembling fear to count them o’er, and bitterly to sigh,
Remembering they are earthly too,—they, too, alas, must die.
Perchance of its remaining joys, its fondly garnered things,
One may be dearer than the rest—to that it fondly clings;
And, resting thus confidingly, it half forgets the woe
Which changed the orphan’s joyous tones to cadence sad and low.
And can the stern destroyer find naught else to call his own
That he has stamped his fearful mark upon this chosen one?
It boots not to inquire the cause, the why it must be so;