“ Her words were faint and few, And on those little graves her tears Distilled like evening dew. A prattling boy, some four years old, Her trembling hand embraced, And from my heart the tale he told Will never be effaced. ”
“ Her words were faint and few, And on those little graves her tears Distilled like evening dew. A prattling boy, some four years old, Her trembling hand embraced, And from my heart the tale he told Will never be effaced. ”
