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The sorrow is spread across a wider space
When brothers, sisters, mourn one common
But she and I stood face to face:
I bear alone my cross.
A widow she, and I an only son—
That made communion sweet.
Our lives were closely linked, as few or none
Have had the gladness—and the grief—to me.
No separation marred our joy;
The mother had become the perfect friend
The man drew even nearer than the boy,
Aye, ever nearer, till the very end.
When brothers, sisters, mourn one common
But she and I stood face to face:
I bear alone my cross.
A widow she, and I an only son—
That made communion sweet.
Our lives were closely linked, as few or none
Have had the gladness—and the grief—to me.
No separation marred our joy;
The mother had become the perfect friend
The man drew even nearer than the boy,
Aye, ever nearer, till the very end.
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