So tremblingly above?
Was it a dream, that woman’s lot
Was with unkindness never fraught;
That her affections ne’er were sought
To be as worthless spurned?
No dream! but ’twas a glimpse of years
Whose coming bright as the man appears,
Drying the dew of earthly tears
From eyes like flowers upturned.
The aged feel its cheering ray,