 | Poems And Songs |  |
193
LITTLE BROTHER.
A SONG FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.
Oh! come, let us lay all our playthings aside,
And sing of our brother again;
We will sing how he once in our games joined with pride,
Forgetting his cough and his pain.
And sing of our brother again;
We will sing how he once in our games joined with pride,
Forgetting his cough and his pain.
But he's gone far away to the land of the stars—
All his moaning and weeping are o'er;
And till death the bright portals of glory unbars,
We shall see little brother no more.
All his moaning and weeping are o'er;
And till death the bright portals of glory unbars,
We shall see little brother no more.
Little brother was kind, with a manner so sweet,
And his ringlets so fairylie fell;
Oh! we always were happy together to meet,
For we loved little brother so well.
But he's gone far away, &c.
And his ringlets so fairylie fell;
194
For we loved little brother so well.
But he's gone far away, &c.
Little brother could sing, and 'twas pleasant to hear
Him join in the hymn or the song;
Ah! we never once deemed his departure so near,
Nor thought he'd be absent so long.
But he's gone far away, &c.
Him join in the hymn or the song;
Ah! we never once deemed his departure so near,
Nor thought he'd be absent so long.
But he's gone far away, &c.
No more we'll for him gather primroses gay—
Little brother of flowers was so fond!
Now, he's gathering bright flowers that will ne'er fade away,
Yon hills of white clouds far beyond.
For he's gone far away, &c.
Little brother of flowers was so fond!
Now, he's gathering bright flowers that will ne'er fade away,
Yon hills of white clouds far beyond.
For he's gone far away, &c.
No more shall he gaze on the far-flying kite,
Whose string to his carriage was bound;
Nor smile in his chair, on the long winter night,
When the guess or the story goes round.
For he's gone far away, &c.
Whose string to his carriage was bound;
Nor smile in his chair, on the long winter night,
When the guess or the story goes round.
For he's gone far away, &c.
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We must all be good children, and swear not, nor lie,
And always from quarrelling refrain;
And so, one by one, to the star-land we'll fly,
And meet little brother again.
And always from quarrelling refrain;
And so, one by one, to the star-land we'll fly,
And meet little brother again.
For he's gone far away to the land of the stars,
He has passed through the valley of pain;
And when death the bright portals of glory unbars,
We shall meet little brother again.
He has passed through the valley of pain;
And when death the bright portals of glory unbars,
We shall meet little brother again.
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