 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
58
FLORENCE'S BIRTH-DAY.
“Florence, wake!” the birds are calling,
Brushing with their wings the dew,
But thé words which they are saying
None may know but me and you.
'T is your birth-day morning, dearest,
And the warbling songsters say,
“Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!”
Brushing with their wings the dew,
But thé words which they are saying
None may know but me and you.
'T is your birth-day morning, dearest,
And the warbling songsters say,
“Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!”
Ah, no father's lip may bless you,—
He is o'er the sea away;
Would his fond eyes might behold you,
Would he could be here to-day!
Could his loving arms enfold you,
Do you know what he would say?
“Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!”
He is o'er the sea away;
Would his fond eyes might behold you,
Would he could be here to-day!
Could his loving arms enfold you,
Do you know what he would say?
“Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!”
59
Never mother's heart clung closelier
To her child than mine to you,
Gem of love's bright broken circle,
Fresh and guileless,—pure and true!
Will life's thousand cares and changes
Lure your heart from mine away?
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
To her child than mine to you,
Gem of love's bright broken circle,
Fresh and guileless,—pure and true!
Will life's thousand cares and changes
Lure your heart from mine away?
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
Ah, my heart looks forward sadly
To the path your feet must tread;—
Would it might be strown with roses,
And their thorns be mine instead!
Happy one! no dark misgivings
Make your merry heart less gay;—
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
To the path your feet must tread;—
Would it might be strown with roses,
And their thorns be mine instead!
Happy one! no dark misgivings
Make your merry heart less gay;—
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
And I will not dim the present,
By foreboding future woe;
Grief and joy in life are mingled
Wisely, since God wills it so,
And there is a watchful angel
Who will hover round your way;
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
By foreboding future woe;
Grief and joy in life are mingled
Wisely, since God wills it so,
And there is a watchful angel
Who will hover round your way;
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
60
I will trust you with the Shepherd,
Who, whene'er His young lambs faint,
Folds them softly in His bosom,
Soothing every wailing plaint;
For I know His hand will lead you
Safely through life's perilous way;
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
Who, whene'er His young lambs faint,
Folds them softly in His bosom,
Soothing every wailing plaint;
For I know His hand will lead you
Safely through life's perilous way;
Baby Florence, darling Florence,
Two years old to-day!
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |