And all Love’s purple glory round,
She summers on the Hills of Myrrh.
Thro’ Childhood’s morning-land, serene
She walked betwixt us twain, like Love;
While, in a robe of light above,
Her better Angel walked unseen,—
Till Life’s highway broke bleak and wild;
Then, lest her starry garments trail
In mire, heart bleed, and courage fail,
The Angel’s arms caught up the child.