Chapter III: Part 3

Brighter still the crown was budding
As the year grew old;
And my simple heart beguiling,
Angels shewed it to me smiling:
So the days grew cold.

'Look! O mother! look upon it!'
(Baby lay asleep);
'In the heavens' sunny bowers
Twine we everlasting flowers;
Think upon it in the hours
When you will weep!'

'Look! O mother! fair we've made it
For an angel's head!'
There was something strange and wild
Struck my heart--the angels smiled:
I turned to look upon my child--
And she was dead.

F. ROCHAT.

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