VII

"The least touch of their hands in the morning, I

                  keep day and night:

Their least step on the stair, still throbs through

                  me, if ever so light:

Their least gift, which they left to my childhood, in

                  long ago years,

Is now turned from a toy to a relic, and gazed at

                  through tears.

                              Dig the snow," she said,

                              "For my churchyard bed;

            Yet I, as I sleep, shall not fear to freeze,

If but one of these love me with heart-warm tears,

                        As I have loved these!