Various, The Yale Literary Magazine (Vol…
“ The little form you decked so—the locks that swung over a brow of silver—the face with its beauty, and light, and sweetness, and all the innocency of happy childhood—the clear silver shout of his joy—the step that ran to thee—the lip that pouted for the morning and evening kiss—aye! here they are—look at them.And who art thou, mourner?—thou that lookest not up to the glorious sky, or abroad on the fair face of the creation of God; but, wrapped in the selfishness and solitude of thy grief, standest here like a lone monument of dead men’s histories—who art thou? ”
