 | English Roses |  |
DEAREST.
Dearest
Comes to me, when I am fretting
For the children that are lost,
In the shadow yet uncrost;
Nearest,
If the sun of hope is setting,
And the angry clouds rise up;
Then with baby kisses tost
From her mouth's pure crimson cup
With soft fingers,
She (a presence unforgetting)
Loves and lingers.
Comes to me, when I am fretting
For the children that are lost,
In the shadow yet uncrost;
Nearest,
If the sun of hope is setting,
And the angry clouds rise up;
Then with baby kisses tost
From her mouth's pure crimson cup
With soft fingers,
She (a presence unforgetting)
Loves and lingers.
Only
Five, but she is calm and clever
With a woman's sober ways;
And I cannot feel the days
Lonely,
Now she makes my life for ever
Full and innocent and sweet,
With the pretty words she prays
And the music of her feet
As they patter;
Hearing, I am tired of never
Angel chatter.
Five, but she is calm and clever
With a woman's sober ways;
And I cannot feel the days
Lonely,
Now she makes my life for ever
Full and innocent and sweet,
With the pretty words she prays
And the music of her feet
As they patter;
Hearing, I am tired of never
Angel chatter.
Others
May be warm with deep affection
And are winsome too and white,
But her girlish bosom quite
Mothers
Me and all, who need direction
In the darkness of our grief;
For her faith is infinite,
And her touch a pink relief,
When it travels
O'er the frown, which her detection
Soon unravels.
May be warm with deep affection
And are winsome too and white,
But her girlish bosom quite
Mothers
Me and all, who need direction
In the darkness of our grief;
For her faith is infinite,
66
When it travels
O'er the frown, which her detection
Soon unravels.
Dearest
Clings to me though comrades rally
Not as comrades ought to do,
And her notes of comfort coo
Clearest
From the visionless gray valley;
Then she throws her baby arms
Round the breast which troubles woo,
And unveils her choicest charms;
Through the mourners,
Threads her life so musically
Our dim corners.
Clings to me though comrades rally
Not as comrades ought to do,
And her notes of comfort coo
Clearest
From the visionless gray valley;
Then she throws her baby arms
Round the breast which troubles woo,
And unveils her choicest charms;
Through the mourners,
Threads her life so musically
Our dim corners.
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