 | Songs at the Start |  |
54
CHILD AND FLOWER.
[From the French of Chateaubriand.]
Along her coffin-lid the spotless roses rest
A father's sad, sad hand culled from a happy bower;
Earth, they were born of thee: take back upon thy breast
Young child and tender flower.
A father's sad, sad hand culled from a happy bower;
Earth, they were born of thee: take back upon thy breast
Young child and tender flower.
To this unhallowed world, ah! let them not return,
To this dark world where grief and sin and anguish lower;
The winds might wound and break, the sun might parch and burn
Young child and tender flower.
To this dark world where grief and sin and anguish lower;
The winds might wound and break, the sun might parch and burn
Young child and tender flower.
55
Thou sleepest, O Elise! thy years were brief and bright;
The burden and the heat are spared thy noonday hour;
For dewy morn has flown, and on its pinions light,
Young child and tender flower.
The burden and the heat are spared thy noonday hour;
For dewy morn has flown, and on its pinions light,
Young child and tender flower.
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