This page has been validated.
40
WIDOW AT HER DAUGHTER'S BRIDAL.
A mother yields her gem to thee,
On thy true breast to sparkle rare,
She places 'neath thy household tree
The idol of her fondest care,
And by thy trust to be forgiven,
When judgment wakes in terror wild,
By all thy treasured hopes of heaven,
Deal gently with the widow’s child.
On thy true breast to sparkle rare,
She places 'neath thy household tree
The idol of her fondest care,
And by thy trust to be forgiven,
When judgment wakes in terror wild,
By all thy treasured hopes of heaven,
Deal gently with the widow’s child.
