Immolated

Children of my happier prime,

When One yet lived with me, and

Her rainbow over life and time,

Even Hope, my bride, and mother to you!

O, nurtured in sweet pastoral air,

And fed on flowers and light and

Of morning meadows -spare, ah,

Reproach; spare, and upbraid me

That, yielding scarce to reckless mood,

But jealous of your future lot,

I sealed you in a fate subdued.

Have I not saved you from the

Theft, and ignoring which need

The triumph of the

Unanimous Mediocrity?

Rest, therefore, free from all despite,

Snugged in the arms of comfortable night.