 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
78
COME TO ME, LITTLE CHILD.
Come to me, mine own little child!
Thy mother's heart with grief is wild,
And oft hast thou that grief beguiled,
Come to me, little child.
Thy mother's heart with grief is wild,
And oft hast thou that grief beguiled,
Come to me, little child.
That sweet sweet brow all undefiled,
Purer than snow on hill-tops piled;
It smiles on me as one once smiled,
Come to me, little child!
Purer than snow on hill-tops piled;
It smiles on me as one once smiled,
Come to me, little child!
How smooth that brow, that smile how mild,
Shall peace e'er be from thence exiled?
Nay!—be this last joy undespoiled,
Come to me, little child!
Shall peace e'er be from thence exiled?
Nay!—be this last joy undespoiled,
Come to me, little child!
79
Within thy soul, unstained, unsoiled,
Be Heavenward thoughts enthroned and aisled,
This world with Faith's own beams to gild,
Come to me, little child!
Be Heavenward thoughts enthroned and aisled,
This world with Faith's own beams to gild,
Come to me, little child!
Fear not, though frowned on and reviled,
Thou may'st be pure, in mockery styled,
Stars gleam, because 'mid dark depths isled,
Come to me, little child!
Thou may'st be pure, in mockery styled,
Stars gleam, because 'mid dark depths isled,
Come to me, little child!
| Lays of Leisure Hours | |