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the child and its angel-playmate.
"'Let us go home!' it warbles low;
And when I say—'I dare not so!
My home is here,' it whispers—' No!
Fair child! thy home is mine!'
And then, of some far lovelier land
It fondly tells, where many a band
Of blissful children, hand in hand,
With sportive fondness twine.
And when I say—'I dare not so!
My home is here,' it whispers—' No!
Fair child! thy home is mine!'
And then, of some far lovelier land
It fondly tells, where many a band
Of blissful children, hand in hand,
With sportive fondness twine.
"It says they know not how to sigh
For nothing there can droop and die;
But bloom immortal glads the eye,
And music wondrous sweet
Doth ebb and flow, without alloy,
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy
Time to the tune their blest employ
With weariless wingéd feet!
For nothing there can droop and die;
But bloom immortal glads the eye,
And music wondrous sweet
Doth ebb and flow, without alloy,
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy
Time to the tune their blest employ
With weariless wingéd feet!
"A purer prayer it teaches me
Than that I idly learn'd of thee;
It softens all my thoughtless glee
It makes me true and kind.
My angel-playmate! most I fear,
Twill wave its wings and leave me here!
'Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere!
Oh! leave me not behind!'
Than that I idly learn'd of thee;
It softens all my thoughtless glee
It makes me true and kind.
My angel-playmate! most I fear,
Twill wave its wings and leave me here!
'Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere!
Oh! leave me not behind!'
