Chapitre n° 14 - (VERSO)

6

Perchance he felt her toil-worn hand once more
In tender benediction as of yore
Rest its light touch upon his curly head
And her dear kiss when the « good-night » was said.
His pale lips move as Death’s dark shadows creep
And softly murmur, « Lay me down to sleep. »
A shuddering breath – a sigh – his spirit fled
To that far land where pain and grief are dead,
Where glory sleeps upon a tideless shore
And Earth’s dark vapours dim our eyes no more.

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