That by the grief of One, came all our good.
Miss Barrett.
Warm, soft, motionless,
As flowers in stillest noon before the sun,
They lie three paces from him: such they lie
As when he left them sleeping side by side,
A mother’s arm round each, a mother’s cheeks
Between them, flusht with happiness and love.
He was more changed than they were, doomed to show,
Thee and the stranger, how defaced and scarr’d