And like the sunny calm of some sweet face,
You would have thought in gazing on its rest,
That earth’s frail children sometimes can be blest.
And yet misfortune found it;—see the group
Now gathered at the threshold, o’er them droop
Long, swaying branches, and the loving leaves
Lay their light fingers o’er the heart that grieves,
As if to soothe its sorrows. Agony
Lights up the darkness of the husband’s eye,
He stands apart, his bearing calm and proud,