EPILOGUE 



well and not be led to ask, whence cameth 

 and whither goeth this gentle life ? 



So, one who can never forget, listens to 

 the matin hymn of the tiny song-sparrow, 

 trilling forth so close beside that little 

 mound, and sees that dear name spring 

 forth in flowery tracery of sweet crocus 

 bloom, amid the soft green, above that little 

 grave, sleeping in the sunshine, and is com- 

 forted. 



Fairy, dear little Fairy! He who created 

 thy faithful, loving heart, He who watcheth 

 against the sparrow's fall - will He not 

 watch over thee ? 



LIBRARY, 



NEW YORK.. 



310 



