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SONGS FOR CHILDHOOD. |
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Yet it lies in my little one's cradle, And sits iu my little one's chair,
And the light of the heaven she's gone to Transfigures its golden hair. |
Yes, still he's fixed and sleeping!
This silence, too, the while� Its very hush and creeping Seem whispering us a smile. Something divine and dim Seems going by one's ear, Like parting wings of cherubim,
Who say, " We've finished here !" |
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TO A CHILD DURING SICKNESS.
Leigh Hunt.
Sleep breathes at last from out thee,
My little patient boy; And balmy rest about thee Smooths off the day's aunoy.
I sit me down and think Of all thy winning ways, Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink, That I had less to praise.
Thy sidelong pillowed meekness,
Thy thanks to all that aid ; Thy heart, in pain and weakness, Of fancied faults afraid ;
The little trembling hand That wipes thy quiet tears� These, these are things that may demand Dread memories for years.
Sorrows I've had�severe ones�
I will not think of now, Aud calmly, midst my dear ones, Have wasted with dry brow ; But wheu thy fingers press And pat my stooping head, I can not bear the gentleness� The tears are iu their bed.
Ah, first-born of thy mother,
Wheu life and hope were new ; Kind playmate of thy brother, Thy sister, father too ;
My light where'er I go ; My bird, when prisou-bouud ; My haud-in-hand companion� No, My prayers shall hold thee round.
To say " He has departed"�
"His voice"�"his face"�is goue; To feel impatient-hearted, Yet feel we must bear on�
Ah! I could uot endure To whisper of such woe, Unless I felt this sleep insure That it will not be so. |
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AN ITALIAN LEGEND.
'Twas whispered oue morning iu heaven
How the little child-angel May In the shade of the great white portal
Sat sorrowing night and day ; How she said to the stately warden�
He of the key and bar� " O angel, sweet angel! I pray you,
Set the beautiful gates ajar� Only a little, I pray you,
Set the beautiful gates ajar!
" I can hear my mother weeping;
She is lonely ; she can not see A glimmer of light in the darkness,
Where the gates shut after me. Oh, turu me the key, sweet angel ;
The splendor will shine so far!" But the warden answered, " I dare not
Set the beautiful gates ajar!"
Then rose up Mary the blessed,
Sweet Mary, mother of Christ: Her hand on the band of the angel
She laid, and her touch sufficed; Turned was the key iu the portal,
Fell ringing the golden bar, And, lo! in the little child's fiugers
Stood the beautiful gates ajar! In the little child-angel's fingers
Stood the beautiful gates ajar!
"And this key for further using
To my blessed Son shall be giveu," Said Mary, mother of Jesus,
Tenderest heart in heaven. Now, never a sad-eyed mother
But may catch the glory afar, Since safe in the Lord Christ's bosom
Are the keys of the gates ajar; Close hid in the dear Christ's bosom,
And the gates forever ajar! |
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