26
poems.
THE FADED BLOSSOM.
Softly enter that darkened room,
Shrouded now in deepest gloom,
And gaze a while on the inmate there,
Then turn away and breathe a prayer.
Shrouded now in deepest gloom,
And gaze a while on the inmate there,
Then turn away and breathe a prayer.
'Tis a little form, of simple mould,
Yet its forehead fair is pale and cold;
Its mild blue eyes, like the orb of day,
Have passed forever from sight away.
Yet its forehead fair is pale and cold;
Its mild blue eyes, like the orb of day,
Have passed forever from sight away.
Ye press the cold lips to thine own,
And call her name in loving tone;
Ye smooth the curls, and murmur low,
"My child! my child! I loved thee so!"
And call her name in loving tone;
Ye smooth the curls, and murmur low,
"My child! my child! I loved thee so!"
Yet she heeds it not—thy little one;
That merry voice, alas! has gone
To sing with angels up in heaven,
Among the ransomed and forgiven.
That merry voice, alas! has gone
To sing with angels up in heaven,
Among the ransomed and forgiven.
