Was driven to untimely rest.
Amid her children weeping round,
She stands an image of despair,
Clasping her arms her infant round,—
Yet from her eye there falls no tear;
Hers is a keener, deeper woe,
A more intense and heavy grief,
Than those whence tears in torrents flow,
And give the burdened heart relief.
"Well may ye weep," at length she cried,