Chapter 14 'IF I WERE DEAD.'

'If I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'

The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,

And the tears brake

From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.

Poor Child, poor Child!

I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.

It is not true that Love will do no wrong.

Poor Child!

And did you think, when you so cried