 | [Violets at her Feet, in] Our Little One |  |
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Violets at her Feet.
Iv'e lost my little May at last!
She perished in the spring,
When earliest flowers began to bud,
And earliest birds to sing:
I laid her in a country grave,
A rural, soft retreat;
A marble tablet at her head,
And violets at her feet.
She perished in the spring,
When earliest flowers began to bud,
And earliest birds to sing:
I laid her in a country grave,
A rural, soft retreat;
A marble tablet at her head,
And violets at her feet.
I would that she were back again,
In all her childish bloom:
My joy and hope have followed her,
My heart is in the tomb!
I know that she is gone away,
I know that she is fled;
I miss her everywhere, and yet
I cannot make her dead!
In all her childish bloom:
My joy and hope have followed her,
My heart is in the tomb!
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I know that she is fled;
I miss her everywhere, and yet
I cannot make her dead!
I wake the children up at dawn,
And say a simple prayer,
And draw them round the morning meal;
But one is wanting there!
I see a little chair apart,
A little pinafore,
And memory fills the vacancy,
As time will—never more!
And say a simple prayer,
And draw them round the morning meal;
But one is wanting there!
I see a little chair apart,
A little pinafore,
And memory fills the vacancy,
As time will—never more!
I sit within my room and write,
The lone and weary hours,
And miss the little maid again
Among the window flowers;
And miss her with the toys beside
My desk, in silent play;
And then I turn and look for her,
But she has flown away.
The lone and weary hours,
And miss the little maid again
Among the window flowers;
And miss her with the toys beside
My desk, in silent play;
And then I turn and look for her,
But she has flown away.
I drop my idle pen and hark,
And catch the faintest sound;
She must be playing hide-and-seek
In shady nooks around:
She'll come and climb my chair again,
And peep my shoulder o'er;
I hear a stifled laugh,—but no,
She cometh never more!
And catch the faintest sound;
She must be playing hide-and-seek
In shady nooks around:
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And peep my shoulder o'er;
I hear a stifled laugh,—but no,
She cometh never more!
I waited only yesternight,
The evening service read,
And lingered for my idol's kiss,
Before she went to bed;
Forgetting she had gone before,
In slumbers soft and sweet;
A monument above her head,
And violets at her feet!
The evening service read,
And lingered for my idol's kiss,
Before she went to bed;
Forgetting she had gone before,
In slumbers soft and sweet;
A monument above her head,
And violets at her feet!
| [Violets at her Feet, in] Our Little One | |