210 THE SUNSHINE S STORY.
��THE SUNSHINE S STORY.
FOUR little pictures j that was all To tell his ended life To me, a lonely woman still, Who should liave been his wife.
Out of his mother s feeble hand
I took them one by one, To read his story, short and sad,
Told by the faithful sun.
"This one" she rubbed it with her sleeve-
"My eyes can scarcely see; Twas taken when he was a boy. A dear good boy to me !"
A round and rosy little face,
With awkward, frightened stare,
And sturdy, nervous school-boy hand Clutched tightly on a chair.
"And this was in his college days, When he went courting you." I pulled my veil across my face, And near the picture drew.
I saw the eager hazel eyes,
The careless, wind-tossed hair,
The very knotting of the tie I loved to see him wear
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