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the dying boy.
She pressed her lips
On his cold forehead, and her burning tears
Fell fast with his: but when the first keen pang
Was past, she nerved herself to comfort him,
And told him, in her heart were images,
And gentle names of loved and lost, which ne'er
Could fade from her remembrance, and that he
Would ever live among the brightest there,
'Till death should bear her to his arms in heaven.
On his cold forehead, and her burning tears
Fell fast with his: but when the first keen pang
Was past, she nerved herself to comfort him,
And told him, in her heart were images,
And gentle names of loved and lost, which ne'er
Could fade from her remembrance, and that he
Would ever live among the brightest there,
'Till death should bear her to his arms in heaven.
