And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes

There spake a wishful tenderness, a doubt

Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence

Alone may wear. With ruthless haste he bound

The silken fringes of those curtaining lids

Forever. There had been a murmuring sound

With which the babe would claim its mother’s ear,

Charming her even to tears. The Spoiler set

His seal of silence. But there beamed a smile

So fixed, so holy, from that cherub brow,