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A CHILD'S GRAVE AT FLORENCE.
XXIV.
Arms, empty of her child, she lifts,
With spirit unbereaven—
"God will not all take back His gifts:
My Lily's mine in Heaven!
XXV.
"Still mine!—maternal rights serene
Not given to another!
The crystal bars shine faint between
The souls of child and mother.
XXVI.
"Meanwhile," the mother cries, "content!
Our love was well divided;
Its sweetness following where she went,
Its anguish stayed where I did.
XXVII.
"Well done of God, to halve the lot,
And give her all the sweetness!
To us, the empty room and cot,—
To her, the Heaven's completeness:
XXVIII.
"To us, this grave—to her, the rows
The mystic palm-trees spring in:
To us, the silence in the house,—
To her, the choral singing!
