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1851–1926

FRANCIE.

Rose Hawthorne Lathrop

I loved a child as we should love Each other everywhere; I cared more for his happiness Than I dreaded my own despair.

An angel asked me to give him My whole life's dearest cost; And in adding mine to his treasures I knew they could never be lost.

To his heart I gave the gold, Though little my own had known; To his eyes what tenderness From youth in mine had grown!

I gave him all my buoyant Hope for my future years; I gave him whatever melody My voice had steeped in tears.

Upon the shore of darkness His drifted body lies. He is dead, and I stand beside him, With his beauty in my eyes.

I am like those withered petals We see on a winter day, That gladly gave their color In the happy summer away.

I am glad I lavished my worthiest To fashion his greater worth; Since he will live in heaven, I shall lie content in the earth.

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FRANCIE. · Rose Hawthorne Lathrop · Poetry Cove