University of Virginia Library


78

III. THE CHILD IN THE SICK ROOM.

The glorious sun sinks slowly o'er
The purple ocean broad and even,
While, pale and pure, one little star
Rides up the eastern heaven.
The sunset hues of coming death
Have touch'd her cheek, and lit her eye;
The mother hath borne in her babe
To greet her ere she die.
With solemn look, and passive arms,
That stretch not now for love's embrace,
He looketh long and earnestly
On that sweet, holy face;
As if the soul, untainted yet,
And fresh from the Redeemer's touch,
New-wash'd in His own blood, who loves
His little ones so much;

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With that bright spirit purified,
In suffering faithful to the end,
Held some mysterious communing
We could not comprehend.
As if to him unveil'd had been
Angelic forms and mysteries,
And awfully the parting soul
Look'd through her bright dark eyes.
Gaze on, the sunlight lingers yet—
The brow is there, with genius fraught,
The parted lips that pour'd so well
The music of her thought.
The brow all calm, the face all fair,
The eye all brilliant as of yore,
Each line by beauty so refined,
It could refine no more.
Gaze on—and Oh, as Eastern skies
Glow when the western heaven is bright,
Perchance thy soul may catch a gleam
From yonder fading light!

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Because her lips for thee have vow'd,
Have pray'd for thee in hours of pain,
It cannot be, thou precious child,
Those prayers shall prove in vain.
But they will bring a blessing back,
As ofttimes 'neath the summer moon
The dewy mists that heavenward rise
Fall down in showers at noon.
And thou wilt be a holy saint,
Christ's soldier true in fights to come,
Wilt bear His cross as patiently,
And go as gladly home.
Gaze on, gaze on, some scenes there are
Too fair to ruffle with a sigh,
So let us learn of childish awe,
And wait in silence by!