University of Virginia Library

Screened by the damask curtains of her bed,
A lady, her companion, knelt in prayer.
She knew affliction; she had been abroad
With her young husband, who went forth to seek
The restoration of his shattered health.
But all her cares and watchings had been vain,
And her last hope was to conduct him home,
That he might look on his own land once more,
And sleep within its bosom. But the Lord
Had otherwise determined. She had watched
All the long lonely night beside his couch,
Still prompt to minister and soothe his pain,
And she had closed the eyes from which her soul
Had drank the purest, sweetest happiness
Of earth's affection; and she then composed,
For the last time, those black and glossy curls,
Which she so loved to comb and to arrange
Upon his noble brow. And she had seen
That form, so beautiful, so much beloved,
Sink down to the low caverns of the deep,
For ever, from her sight. Oh, that was grief;
And she wept wildly, for she did not boast
That fortitude which some admire so much,
But which exists with apathy alone.
Feeling will gush; no high, no proud resolve
Can choke the utterance of the gushing heart.
And Emma wept, but she forgot not God.
She wept with resignation, and poured out
The humble breathing of a broken heart;
And He who shook her idol from its throne,
Gave her the presence of a God instead,
And she bowed down and worshipped.