Thou that hast been what words may never tell
Unto thy mother’s bosom, since the days
When thou wert pillow’d there, and wont to raise
In sudden laughter thence thy loving eye
That still sought mine: these moments are gone by—
Thou too must go, my flower! Yet with thee dwell
The peace of God! One, one more gaze: farewell!”
This was a mother’s parting with her child—
A young meek bride, on whom fair fortune smiled,
And woo’d her with a voice of love away