If herefrom Springs thy sorrow, that her years
Were broken off before all that endears
A life on earth to mortals she might prove —
Yet think how empty the delights that move
The minds of men, delights that must give place
At last to sorrow, as in thine own case.
Did then thy little girl such joy confer
That all the comfort thou didst find in her
Could parallel thine anguish of today?
Thou canst not answer otherwise than nay.