 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
94
WHERE CHARLIE DIED.
There seems a sacred presence here,
A gloom as of approaching night,
For one whose smile to us was dear
Here bowed to death's remorseless blight.
The youngest of our household band,
Fair-browed, and gay, and sunny-eyed,
Unclasped from ours his little hand
And in his childish beauty died.
A gloom as of approaching night,
For one whose smile to us was dear
Here bowed to death's remorseless blight.
The youngest of our household band,
Fair-browed, and gay, and sunny-eyed,
Unclasped from ours his little hand
And in his childish beauty died.
They said he died;—it seems to me
That, after hours of pain and strife,
He slept, one even, peacefully,
And woke toeverlasting life;
And mirth's glad voice, and laughter's cheer
May ring through all the house beside,
But quiet sadness reigneth here,
Since darling baby Charlie died.
That, after hours of pain and strife,
He slept, one even, peacefully,
And woke toeverlasting life;
And mirth's glad voice, and laughter's cheer
May ring through all the house beside,
But quiet sadness reigneth here,
Since darling baby Charlie died.
95
Oh! when my heart, oppressed by care,
Grows faint to find its heaven unwon,
And shrinks from life's vain hollow glare
As flowers beneath the August sun,—
I love to seek this shadowy room,
By memory sadly sanctified,
And linger in the eloquent gloom
Which hallows it since Charlie died.
Grows faint to find its heaven unwon,
And shrinks from life's vain hollow glare
As flowers beneath the August sun,—
I love to seek this shadowy room,
By memory sadly sanctified,
And linger in the eloquent gloom
Which hallows it since Charlie died.
And ever as I enter here,
With noiseless steps and low-drawn breath,
There seems an unseen presence near,
For here the twilight gate of death
Once, on a holy summer night,
By angel hands was swung aside,
Opening from darkness into light
When darling baby Charlie died.
With noiseless steps and low-drawn breath,
There seems an unseen presence near,
For here the twilight gate of death
Once, on a holy summer night,
By angel hands was swung aside,
Opening from darkness into light
When darling baby Charlie died.
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |