Page:Poems Argent.djvu/27

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POEMS.
15
Still I hear his voice ascending in the chancel broad and dim,
Joining in the plaintive cadence of the dear old evening hymn!

Mother, father, sisters, brothers, I am joining you in part,
I am listening in the silence, but I hear you in my heart.

I am dying, mother, dearest, yet you must not grieve for me,
For a blighted little blossom dropping from its parent tree.

But to day the doctor told me with a kind hand on my brow,
He had tried his best to cure me, but that nought could save me now.

So many weary weeks have passed since in the darkening street
The big dray horses knocked me down and crushed me 'neath their feet.

Mother, darling, I shall never see the flowers bloom wild again,
I am stricken down with sickness and with long, long hours of pain.