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98

ON PORTRAITS OF MADAME LE VERT'S LOST CHILDREN AT MOBILE, ALABAMA.

1

Bright, lovely beings!—on each imaged face
More of the angel than the child we trace;—
More of the immortal than the mortal see,
In each mild aspect's pictured purity.

2

Sweet mother, check thy deeply mournful sighs,
Grieve not to spare those seraphs to the skies;
Ah! not for them need flow the bitter tear,
How blest their sunny fate, both There and Here!

3

Oh! not for them should sorrow's drops be shed!
We scarce can dream they died, scarce deem they fled;
Still round them seemed to smile, all fresh and fair,
A happier world's serener, clearer air.

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4

'Twas scarce a change, 'twas scarce a second birth,
More of Elysium knew they than of Earth!—
From Love to Love, from living Light to Light,
How smooth the transit, and how short the flight!

5

Still seemed to shine, even round their life below,
Bright Immortality's ethereal glow;
Seemed but transplanted hence, each precious flower,
Back to its native soil, ere frowned one shower.

6

And what to them was Death's pale Kiss of Peace,
That bade the flutter of life's pulse to cease?
Though swift the stroke, though brief the warning given,
'Twas but a step from such a Home—to Heaven!

7

Yes, short the flight, yet it was bright and bless'd,
They soared, soft-cradled, on an angel's breast;—
All bliss is theirs,—thus called from life's young bloom,
Though Home seemed Heaven, 'tis Heaven indeed is Home.

8

And when thyself shalt leave this world of gloom,
Shall Death's stern Angel call thee to thy tomb?—
Surely thy Soul shall pass, from earth and strife,
Freed by the dearest Angels of thy Life!