• The night was dark and fearful,
      The blast swept wailing by;
    A watcher, pale and tearful,
      Looked forth with anxious eye:
    How wistfully she gazes—
      No gleam of morn is there!
    And then her heart upraises
      Its agony of prayer.

    Within that dwelling lonely,
      Where want and darkness reign,
    Her precious child, her...

  • I watched her face to see which way

    She took the awful news —

    Whether she died before she heard

    Or in protracted bruise

    Remained a few slow years with us —

    Each heavier than the last —

    A further afternoon to fail,

    As Flower at fall of Frost.