University of Virginia Library

TO A LOCKET.

O casket of dear fancies,
O little case of gold,
What rarest wealth of memories
Thy tiny round will hold!
With this first curl of baby's
In thy small charge will live
All thoughts that all her little life
To memory can give.
O prize its silken softness!
Within its amber round
What worlds of sweet rememberings
Will still by us be found,
The weak, shrill cry, so blessing
The curtained room of pain,
With every since-felt feeling,
To us 'twill bring again.
'Twill mind us of her lying
In rest, soft-pillowed deep,
While, hands the candle shading,
We stole upon her sleep;

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Of many a blessed moment,
Her little rest above,
We hung in marvelling stillness,
In ecstasy of love.
'Twill mind us, radiant sunshine
For all our shadowed days,
Of all her baby wonderings,
Of all her little ways,
Of all her tiny shoutings,
Of all her starts and fears,
And sudden mirths out-gleaming
Through eyes yet hung with tears.
There's not a care—a watching—
A hope—a laugh—a fear,
Of all her little bringing,
But we shall find it here.
Then, tiny golden warder,
Oh safely ever hold
This glossy silken memory,
This little curl of gold.