The bard, and minor poems | ||
LINES ON THE DEATH OF MARY CHAPMAN,
DAUGHTER OF R. W. CHAPMAN, ESQ., M.D., ÆT. SIX YEARS.
“Whom the gods love, die young.”
Farewell, thou little cherub,
Sweet angel, fare-thee-well!
Frail was the chord, and tender,
That bound thy mortal shell.
Sweet angel, fare-thee-well!
Frail was the chord, and tender,
That bound thy mortal shell.
243
Alas! that voice is silent,
So gentle, soft, and low;
Those eyes of winning gladness
Have lost their summer glow.
So gentle, soft, and low;
Those eyes of winning gladness
Have lost their summer glow.
Thou wert thy father's darling—
Thou wert a mother's love;
But now thy seraph-spirit
Regains the realms above.
Thou wert a mother's love;
But now thy seraph-spirit
Regains the realms above.
The birds are singing gaily—
They will not sing for thee;
The spring-flowers blooming brightly—
Alas! thou canst not see.
They will not sing for thee;
The spring-flowers blooming brightly—
Alas! thou canst not see.
Yet they shall blossom sweetly
Upon thy early tomb;
The birds thy requiem carol,
Lamenting o'er thy doom.
Upon thy early tomb;
The birds thy requiem carol,
Lamenting o'er thy doom.
And they whom Christ regarded,
The little children all,
In heaven's celestial mansions
To thee from dust shall call.
The little children all,
In heaven's celestial mansions
To thee from dust shall call.
And in the Godhead's presence
Thy sainted soul will shine;
All shrived from earthly sorrow,
Immortal and divine.
Thy sainted soul will shine;
All shrived from earthly sorrow,
Immortal and divine.
The bard, and minor poems | ||