| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
MARY STODARD. |
217 |
||
|
|
|||
|
Such is earth—so strangely changing!
Flowers may blossom bright to-day, Hopes may bloom in all their fragrance,
And to-morrow droop away.' Mourning parent, there's a region
Where,these changes never come, Far beyond earth's blighting mildew,
Far beyond the dreary tomb!
Your sweet child has been escorted
To.that higher, holier clime; Your bright dove has spread her pinions
Far beyond the sweep of time. Hark! borne on the summer zephyrs,
What sweet melody I hear! "Es the voice of the departed,
'Tis that angel babe so dear!
Dost thou hear her ? " Father, Mother!" (Speaks she in that gentle tone,)
" Mourn not o'er the mould'ring casket,
Weep not o'er your faded one! Mary lives—she lives in glory, Blooms in fadeless beauty now;
Joins the choir of dazzling seraphs, With God's signet on her brow.
" Mourn not, for earth's cares and sorrows Ne'er shall stain this spirit more \. |
|||