That she, so fair, may sink with colours flying,
So the old widowed mother kept from dying.
She tottered home, back to the little room,
It was all over for her, but for life;
She drew the blinds, and trembled in the gloom;
'I sat here thus when I was wedded wife;
Sorrow sometimes, and joy; but always strife.
Struggle to live except just at the last,
O God, I thank Thee for the mercies past.
Harry, my man, when we were courting; eh...