Page:Home; or, The unlost paradise (IA homeorunlostpara00palm).pdf/66

Lies, as in carelessness, the flaxen hair.
In tranquil slumber one might deem he rests,
But that the leaden eye a sleep bespeaks
Too deep for waking. Folded on the breast,
Now motionless, repose the snowy hands
With flowers o'er-strown; strange contrast! e'en as when
Thick clustering violets are seen to spring,
Or lilies of the valley, where the drifts
Of winter part, touched by the vernal sun.
Mary, they saw thee come—and stand—and gaze—
As if thy soul, with anguish wrestling long,
At last had mastered its fierce inward strife;
As if a self-command that awful seemed
Had changed thee to a statue; saw thee take
Thy last, last look, and heard thy lips pronounce,
"My boy—thou'rt mine no more! I give thee back
To God who gave thee! O farewell!—farewell!"
So triumphed faith when anguish wrung the heart;
And as the rainbow spans the cloud o'erpast,
Emblem of peace that waits beyond the storm,