Poems (Brown)/The Faded Blossom

by Carrie L. Brown

THE FADED BLOSSOM. 

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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.

'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.

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!"

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.

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."

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,"—

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.