 | Voices from the Mountains |  |
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THE CHILD AND THE MOURNERS.
A little child, beneath a tree,
Sat and chanted cheerily
A little song, a pleasant song,
Which was—she sang it all day long—
“When the wind blows, the blossoms fall,
But a good God reigns over all!”
Sat and chanted cheerily
A little song, a pleasant song,
Which was—she sang it all day long—
“When the wind blows, the blossoms fall,
But a good God reigns over all!”
There pass'd a lady by the way,
Moaning in the face of day:
There were tears upon her cheek,
Grief in her heart too great to speak;
Her husband died but yester-morn,
And left her in the world forlorn.
Moaning in the face of day:
There were tears upon her cheek,
Grief in her heart too great to speak;
Her husband died but yester-morn,
And left her in the world forlorn.
She stopp'd and listen'd to the child,
That look'd to Heaven, and, singing, smiled;
And saw not, for her own despair,
Another lady, young and fair,
Who, also passing, stopp'd to hear
The infant's anthem ringing clear.
That look'd to Heaven, and, singing, smiled;
And saw not, for her own despair,
Another lady, young and fair,
Who, also passing, stopp'd to hear
The infant's anthem ringing clear.
For she, but few sad days before,
Had lost the little babe she bore;
And grief was heavy at her soul,
As that sweet memory o'er her stole,
And show'd how bright had been the Past,
The Present drear and overcast.
Had lost the little babe she bore;
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As that sweet memory o'er her stole,
And show'd how bright had been the Past,
The Present drear and overcast.
And as they stood beneath the tree,
Listening, soothed, and placidly,
A youth came by, whose sunken eyes
Spake of a load of miseries;
And he, arrested like the twain,
Stopp'd to listen to the strain.
Listening, soothed, and placidly,
A youth came by, whose sunken eyes
Spake of a load of miseries;
And he, arrested like the twain,
Stopp'd to listen to the strain.
Death had bow'd the youthful head
Of his bride beloved, his bride unwed:
Her marriage robes were fitted on,
Her fair young face with blushes shone,
When the destroyer smote her low,
And left the lover to his woe.
Of his bride beloved, his bride unwed:
Her marriage robes were fitted on,
Her fair young face with blushes shone,
When the destroyer smote her low,
And left the lover to his woe.
And these three listen'd to the song,
Silver-toned, and sweet, and strong,
Which that child, the live-long day,
Chanted to itself in play:
“When the wind blows, the blossoms fall,
But a good God reigns over all.”
Silver-toned, and sweet, and strong,
Which that child, the live-long day,
Chanted to itself in play:
“When the wind blows, the blossoms fall,
But a good God reigns over all.”
The widow's lips impulsive moved;
The mother's grief, though unreproved,
Soften'd, as her trembling tongue
Repeated what the infant sung;
And the sad lover, with a start,
Conn'd it over to his heart.
The mother's grief, though unreproved,
Soften'd, as her trembling tongue
Repeated what the infant sung;
And the sad lover, with a start,
Conn'd it over to his heart.
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And though the child—if child it were,
And not a seraph, sitting there—
Was seen no more, the sorrowing three
Went on their way resignedly,
The song still ringing in their ears—
Was it music of the spheres?
And not a seraph, sitting there—
Was seen no more, the sorrowing three
Went on their way resignedly,
The song still ringing in their ears—
Was it music of the spheres?
Who shall tell? They did not know.
But in the midst of deepest woe
The strain recurr'd when sorrow grew,
To warn them, and console them too:
“When the wind blows, the blossoms fall,
But a good God reigns over all.”
But in the midst of deepest woe
The strain recurr'd when sorrow grew,
To warn them, and console them too:
“When the wind blows, the blossoms fall,
But a good God reigns over all.”
| Voices from the Mountains | |