Poems (Eaton)/The Little Empty Carriage

by Marcia Jane Eaton

THE LITTLE EMPTY CARRIAGE.

I KNOW a little carriage,
 With lining soft and warm,
With dainty covering to protect
 Its inmate from all harm:
With wheels that o'er the matted floor.
 Or on the grassy street,
When guided by a loving hand,
 Gave sound of music sweet—
Gave sound of music to the ear,
 And gladness to the heart
Of those, who called its owner dear,
 In life their sweetest part.

But now the lonely carriage
 Stands amid silence deep,
No more the little dimpled hand
 Clasps it in broken sleep—
No more the print of baby form
 Is left its depths among,
As when his infant restlessness
 Was calmed by voice of song—
And 'neath its shading roof, no more
 The dark and earnest eye
Catches with smiles the loving glance
 Of every passer-by.

Alas, the empty carnage!
 Alas, the aching heart!
And lives made doubly desolate
 By sorrow's keenest dart!
Ne'er did fairer, lovelier babe,
 Fill parent's heart with bliss;
Ne'er did one short year yield more
 Of perfect happiness—
But passing great as was the joy,
 So deep is now the loss,
As when the melted ore runs out,
 More darkly glooms the dross.

While many a smitten household
 Laments its idols gone,
And turns from dead to living face,
 To soothe its anguished moan,
This little only darling one
 Of hearts, who, sorely tried,
Had drank before this self-same cup,
 Closed his pure eyes and died.
And by his sister's side, adorned
 With many a flowering wreath,
They laid him in life's opening morn,
 Locked in the sleep of death.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
 But loosened from earth's clod,
The spirit springs on radiant wing
 And bows before its God.
Father, anoint these heavy eyes
 And moaning hearts, to see
Their new-born angel, clothed in light
 And happiness with Thee;
Teach them that in their children's bliss
 Their lives may well be blest,
That earth's stern duties once fulfilled,
 They'll meet in heavenly rest.