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THE WIDOW'S PRAYER.
For not the breath of prosperous days,
Though warm with joy and wing'd with praise,
E'er kindled such a living coal
Of deep devotion in the soul
As that wild blast, which bore away
Her idol to returnless clay:
And, for the wreath that crown'd the brow,
Left bitter thoughts and hyssop-bough,
A lonely couch, a sever'd tie,
A tear that time can never dry,
Unutter'd wo, unpitied care:
O God! regard the widow's prayer.
