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Gave cheerful greeting.—Vivid was the light
Which flashed at this from out the Other's eyes;
He was all fire: the sickness from his face
Passed like a fancy that is swept away;
Hands joined he with his Visitant,—a grasp,
An eager grasp; and, many moments' space,
When the first glow of pleasure was no more,
And much of what had vanished was returned,
An amicable smile retained the life
Which it had unexpectedly received,
Upon his hollow cheek. "How kind," he said,
"Nor could your coming have been better timed;
For this, you see, is in our little world
A day of sorrow. I have here a charge"—
And, speaking thus, he patted tenderly
The sun-burnt forehead of the weeping Child—
"A little Mourner whom it is my task
To comfort;—but how came Ye?—if yon track
(Which doth at once befriend us and betray)
Conducted hither your most welcome feet
Ye could not miss the Funeral Train—they yet
Have scarcely disappeared." "This blooming Child,"
Said the Old Man, "is of an age to weep
