Thy mother dead? long, long ago?
No soft eye beams on thee?
No kindly voice says firmly "No,"
To bid thy tempter flee?
And snares are thick, and pitfalls deep,
And the upward way is rough and steep.
And thou heedest not, in thy soul's deep night,
That God hath so bereft thee;
And thou carest not for the trembling light
Dim in thy memory left thee.