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this is the life I know and yet I never refine That life has no higher need I am a soul & heart like mine I only sigh when I think how many in life there be Who have no tender link to lighten their chain like me There is a little face at the window xxxxxxxx But I know for whom it watheth? And that no human joy Is like the love which a Father Beams for his only boy sometimes we go to the Grave yard Where the arber? of lov'd one lie Whom we so tenderly cherish My little boy & I And we sit us down beside them & tis very sweet to hear My little boy communing with those in another sphere He speaketh to his mother Tho no word replies torn manuscript can see that his soul is answer'd torn manuscript little boy & I torn manuscript his only friend torn manuscript is my only the

And I feel the sacred duty To guide his untried feel That his life may be full of beaty A great & good & sweet

Our little unclear thing for gone In tearful grief now we might toil on

torn manuscript Furber St. Paul. Mar 297 torn manuscript Elyria