 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
342
REQUIEM FOR A BELOVED CHILD.
HE lies in beauty with our griefs around him—
So sweetly folded in his snowy shroud;
As if 'twere but a gentle sleep that bound him—
As if a dream alone our spirits bowed.
So sweetly folded in his snowy shroud;
As if 'twere but a gentle sleep that bound him—
As if a dream alone our spirits bowed.
Ah, me! a sleep that knows no earthly waking—
A dream that may not flee with morning hours;
Oh! blossom of the hearts that now are breaking!—
It blows no more among our household flowers.
A dream that may not flee with morning hours;
Oh! blossom of the hearts that now are breaking!—
It blows no more among our household flowers.
Alas! the Hope, that clung around his being!
The Faith, that traced in light his future years!
The Love, that all his virtues was foreseeing!—
Must these, alas! be dimmed with bitter tears?
The Faith, that traced in light his future years!
The Love, that all his virtues was foreseeing!—
Must these, alas! be dimmed with bitter tears?
Oh! no! the Hope looks upward still to heaven;
The Faith soars calmly to the realms above;
The Love, that to our earthly child was given,
Still mingles in his soul with angel love.
The Faith soars calmly to the realms above;
The Love, that to our earthly child was given,
Still mingles in his soul with angel love.
And, oh! the years that now our babe has entered!
The virtues clustering round his seraph brow!
How weak our trust that late on earth was centred—
How sure the promise that sustains us now!
The virtues clustering round his seraph brow!
How weak our trust that late on earth was centred—
How sure the promise that sustains us now!
343
This offering, Jesus! to Thine arms we tender—
Our child, our babe, our little one, we yield:
Its fragrance, Lord! to Thee we humbly render—
Our choicest flower—the lily of our field:—
Our child, our babe, our little one, we yield:
Its fragrance, Lord! to Thee we humbly render—
Our choicest flower—the lily of our field:—
To bloom beneath thy smile—to dwell beholding
The wondrous mystery of thy love divine;
Its beauteous petals evermore unfolding—
Its opening heart, dear Lord! so near to Thine!
The wondrous mystery of thy love divine;
Its beauteous petals evermore unfolding—
Its opening heart, dear Lord! so near to Thine!
O angel-child!—O earthly one immortal!—
Pure messenger from out this world of sin!
Our darling's form hath oped the heavenly portal,
And streams of glory bathe us from within.
Pure messenger from out this world of sin!
Our darling's form hath oped the heavenly portal,
And streams of glory bathe us from within.
| Duganne's Poetical Works | |