“My child,” she sigh’d, “did heaven not know
How deep and dread would be my woe?
For this did nature give thee birth,
For this,—to bury thee?—O God!”
She groan’d, then started. Earth to earth,
Her lips had kiss’d the common sod.
“Amid life’s flowers that fade and fall,
What need to pluck a bud so small?
With ripen’d harvests full supplied,
What need had heaven of thee?” she cried;