William Alexander

Epitaph On Agnes Jones

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Alone with Christ in this sequester'd place
Thy sweet soul learn'd its quietude of grace;
On sufferers waiting in this vale of ours,
Thy gifted touch was train'd to higher powers.
Therefore when death, O Agnes! came to thee—
Not on the cool breath of our lakelike sea,
But in the workhouse hospital's hot ward,
A gentle helper with the gentle Lord,—
Proudly as men heroic ashes claim,
We ask'd to have thy fever-stricken frame,
And lay it in our grass beside our foam,
Till Christ the Healer call His healers home.

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