A Sister’s Love. TO IDA.
Reading edition
SHE knelt beside her brother’s grave, The day was near its close; And where the cool, tall grasses wave, She lay a fresh-cut rose. Then, from a silver waiter near, She drew a wreath of white, Besprinkled with the twilight’s tear, O’ershaded with the night, And placed them on the green-kept mound. I watched her kneeling there, Her face bent on the sacred ground, In attitude of prayer; And while a bird sang soft his hymn, Down-looking from above, We saw unveiled a picture dim— A statue true of love.
