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 ? 



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