poems.
27
Ye lay aside her simple dress,
And miss her soft and sweet caress,
While the tears flow fast, and ye long to greet
The remembered "patter of little feet."
And miss her soft and sweet caress,
While the tears flow fast, and ye long to greet
The remembered "patter of little feet."
The children stand, with tear-dimmed eye,
Saying, "Will sister come to us by and by?"
Alas! poor mother, it seems so hard!
But know it is your "Maker, God,"—
Saying, "Will sister come to us by and by?"
Alas! poor mother, it seems so hard!
But know it is your "Maker, God,"—
That has bereft you of your child;
Then hush your agony, so wild,
And look above, to yon bright heaven,
Where she's waiting to meet you, blest and forgiven.
Then hush your agony, so wild,
And look above, to yon bright heaven,
Where she's waiting to meet you, blest and forgiven.
