University of Virginia Library


26

A CRADLE AND A GRAVE.

See this little empty cradle
Hung with silk all draped around,
And with snowy curtains drooping
Idly over to the ground.
'T is so lately since the linen
Bore the impress of the form
That each night in slumber lay there,
And the pillow yet was warm
With the soft and gentle pressure
Of the rosy velvet cheek,
With the coral lips' light breathing,—
Lips not formed enough to speak.
Not to earth's sad cares and trials
Was this little soul here doomed,
For the fragile bud, unopened,
Faded e'en before it bloomed.
See this gentle mound here rising,—
Sigh upheaved by earth's sad breast;
Here the cypress droops, a mourner
O'er a baby form at rest.

27

The violets have not blossomed,
Nor the grass begun to wave,
Nor the summer sunshine brightened,
O'er this little new-made grave.
And the snow falls fast and heavy,
But the mound is not yet white,
For the little knoll was shapen
In this bitter winter night.
Earth is dreary, man is feeble,
And, perchance, 't is better so
That the cradle should be empty,
And a full grave in the snow.
September 2d, 1864.