At last with bruised and bleeding heart
She lay with pain all ashiver;
The mother clasped her in her arms
Each sensitive nerve aquiver.
She lay with pain all ashiver;
The mother clasped her in her arms
Each sensitive nerve aquiver.
She pressed her lips to the sunny curls,
Till ceased the pitiful moaning;
And then that she with her child might die
She prayed with sobs and groaning.
Till ceased the pitiful moaning;
And then that she with her child might die
She prayed with sobs and groaning.
And when the father sought his child;
The mother sad and tearful,
Said, "Oh, my husband, our child is dead,"
His face grew pale and fearful.
The mother sad and tearful,
Said, "Oh, my husband, our child is dead,"
His face grew pale and fearful.
She beckoned him into the shaded room
And stood by, silently weeping;
"Oh wake her, wake her," he hoarsely cried,
"I know she is only sleeping."
And stood by, silently weeping;
"Oh wake her, wake her," he hoarsely cried,
"I know she is only sleeping."
He kissed the cold and clammy face
Once full of life and gladness,
He smoothed her curls, he chaffed her hands,
He raised her up in his madness.
Once full of life and gladness,
He smoothed her curls, he chaffed her hands,
He raised her up in his madness.
Too late—too late—your loving words
Can stir her pulses never;
Yours be the cold and lifeless form.
But the soul has gone forever.
Can stir her pulses never;
Yours be the cold and lifeless form.
But the soul has gone forever.
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