A beauteous boy was brought me, doubly dear,
For all the Tears that promise caused to hover
Round him--'twas past--I claimed a husband in my lover.

On her return to her paternal cottage:

"My father' oh, my father!" vain the cry--
I had no father now; no need to say
"Thou art alone!." I _felt_ my misery--
My father, yet return,--_return_! the day
When sorrow had availed is passed away:
Tears cannot raise the dead, grief cannot call
Back to the earthy corse the spirit's ray--
Vainly eternal tears of blood might fall;
One short year since, he lived--my hopes now perished all!

The tale then concludes:

Years have gone by--my thoughts have risen higher--
I sought for refuge at the Almighty's throne;
And when I sit by this low mould'ring fire,
With but my Bible, feel not quite alone.
Lingering in peace, till I can lay me down,
Quiet and cold in that last dwelling place,
By him o'er whose young head the grass is grown--
By him who yet shall rise with angel face,
Pleading for me, the lost and sinful of my race.
And if I still heave one reluctant sigh--
If earthly sorrows still will cross my heart--
If still to my now dimmed and sunken eye