THE YOUNGEST. I ROCKED her in her cradle, And laid her in the tomb. She was the youngest; What fireside circle hath not felt the charm Of that sweet tie? The youngest ne'er grew old. We keep alive in them, and when they die, THE SPIRIT'S WHISPER. "Dost thou catch The gentle whisper of that angel voice? " "Unto mine ear There comes a strain, like music heard in dreams." SWEET mother, do not weep! The joy of sainted spirits now is mine; I roam the fields of light, with those who keep Bright watch, where heaven's own golden portals shine. I am the babe no more, Who gave its feeble wailing to thine ear; 8 O, couldst thou know how fair, How full of blessedness, this better land, I may not tell thee all Its light and loveliness; its hymns of joy But, O, 't is sweet to be A sinless dweller 'mid its radiant bowers! To breathe the incense of its fadeless flowers, To dwell no more with pain, To shed no tears, — to feel no panting breath. Turn with unwavering trust From the green earth-bed, where my body lies; Thou didst but lay its covering in the dust, Thy child yet lives, will live, beyond the skies. There we shall meet again : O, yes! sweet mother, meet to part no more! I'll welcome thee with heaven's angelic train, And lead thee to the Saviour we adore. WE WATCHED HER BREATHING. "She sleeps; Her smile hath passed away, As dies a ripple on the sea." WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As on her breast the wave of life So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her being out. |