As she sat on her brother’s knee.
But I saw when he gazed on her death-stricken face,
And she breath’d not a word in his ear;
And he clasp’d his brave arms round an icy cold form,
And he moisten’d her cheek with a tear.
But the Healer was there, and he said to him thus—
“Grieve not for thy sister’s short life,”
And he gave to his arms still another fair girl,
And he made her his own cherish’d wife!
There had whisper’d a voice—’twas the voice of his God,