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EPITAPHS FOR INFANTS.
I.
Here Spring's tenderest nurslings set,Wind-flowers and the violet;
Here the white-drooped snowdrop frail,
And the lily of the vale;
All of sweetness passing soon,
Withering ere the year be noon;
For the little rester here,
Like these infants of the year,
Was, O grief! as fair as they,
And as quickly fled away.
II.
Here the gusts of wild March blowBut in murmurs faint and low;
Ever here, when Spring is green,
Be the brightest verdure seen;
And when June's in field and glade,
Here be ever freshest shade.
Here hued Autumn latest stay,
Latest call the flowers away;
And when Winter's shrilling by,
Here its snows the warmest lie;
For a little life is here,
Hid in earth, for ever dear,
And this grassy heap above
Sorrow broods and weeping love.
III.
On this little grassy moundNever be the darnel found:
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On this little heap of green;
For the little lost one here
Was too sweet for aught of fear,
Aught of harm to harbour nigh
This green spot where she must lie;
So be nought but sweetness found
On this little grassy mound.
IV.
Here in gentle pity, Spring,Let thy sweetest voices sing;
Nightingale, be here thy song
Charmed by grief to linger long;
Here the thrush with longest stay
Pipe its pleasant song to day,
And the blackbird warble shrill
All its passion latest still;
Still the old grey tower above
Her small nest, the swallow love,
And through all June's honied hours
Booming bees hum in its flowers;
And when comes the eve's cold gray
Murmuring gnats unresting play
Weave, while, round, the beetle's flight
Drones across the shadowing night;
For the sweetness dreaming here
Was a gladness to the year,
And the sad months all should bring
Dirges o'er her sleep to sing.
V.
Haunter of the opening year,Ever be the primrose here;
Whitest daisies deck the spot,
Pansies and forget-me-not,
Fairest things that earliest fly,
Sweetness blooming but to die;
For this blossom, o'er whose fall
Sorrow sighs, was fair as all,
But, alas, as frail as they,
All as quickly fled away.
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