PARTING OF THE WIDOWS SON.

BY MRS. L. H. slGoURNRY.
{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 772, "word_count": 143, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9380999803543091], "ccnet_perplexity": [1808.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
BY MRS. L. H. slGoURNEY.
Yon slender boy his bark hath launched
On life's deceitful tide;
His balmy years of childhood o'er,
He goes without guide
Amid the stir and strife of men


His devious course 10 run,
The tempter and the snare to bide--
God bless the widows son.
He turneth from the pleasant door.


And from the garden fair,
Where with his little spade he wrought
Beneath mothers,
He bears his head like manhood high,
n Yet tears their course will run,
When on his stranger-bed he rests
God bless the widows son.
Ye say he goeth forth alone


To dare the eventful field
No! no, a spell is round him thrown,
More firm than diamond shield
A mournful mothers fervent prayer!
So, till his life is done,
Till time, and toll. and change are DER
God bless the widows son.