I forget the shining crown, Yearning sore, I only know Selfish heart, that thou shouldst prove So unworthy of the love Which thine idol doth remove! Blinded eyes, that cannot see, O! my Father, loving Lord! I will yield me to Thy will; Though my mother-heart shall ache, And I know I yet shall own, DEATH AND THE MOTHER. DEATH to the mother said, “Thou canst not keep the baby still, let me ! Thou mark'st with pain his gasping, feverish breath; With one long kiss I set it free, And on his brow the signet write Oft thou dost strive to lay In smoothness down his golden hair: let me ! Nay, weep not, that his toilet I would make, For know'st thou not, earth-flowers as frail as this Were better closed against life's chilling dew? The sheet no more thou 'lt fold, Above his dimpled limbs over and o'er; So statue like, inanimate and cold, They will lie bare no more! The form that holds thy baby to His breast Thou wilt not look to see! Nor hear'st the soft voice breaking through his rest, 'Suffer the little one to come to Me!' Else thou and I would soon be reconciled. No more thy tears would flow But thou would'st bless me that I bear thy child Forth from a life of woe To One unbiased by a mother's love Or mother's fears, to bring him up! Perchance to aid thee when thou goest above! Then push me from the still, the sweet, sad cup!" MISS LYDIA L. A. VERY. THE INFANT'S GRAVE. SLEEP, little cherub! on the breast I. MCLELLAN. TWO IN HEAVEN. "You have two children," said I. "I have four,” was the reply—“two on earth, two in heaven." There spoke the mother! Still hers, only gone before ! Still remembered, loved and cherished, by the hearth and at the board their places not yet filled, even though their successors draw life from the same faithful breast where their dying heads were pillowed. "Two in Heaven!" No Safely housed from storm and tempest. sickness there, nor drooping head, nor fading eye, nor weary feet. By green pastures, tended by the good Shepherd, linger the little lambs of the heavenly fold. "Two in Heaven!" Earth less attractive. Eternity nearer. Invisible cords drawing the maternal soul upwards. "Still small voices" ever whisper "Come!" to the world-weary spirit. "Two in Heaven!" Mother of angels Walk softly! Holy eyes watch thy footsteps! Cherub forms bend to listen! Keep thy spirits free from earth's taint; so shalt thou go to them, though they may not return to thee. THE EMPTY CRADLE. SHE sits beside the cradle, And her tears are streaming fast, For she sees the present only, While she thinks of all the past; Of the days so full of gladness, When her first-born's answering kiss Filled her soul with such a rapture That it knew no other bliss. O! those happy, happy moments! They but deepen her despair, For she bends above the cradle, And her baby is not there! There are words of comfort spoken, Of the dark and silent chamber, For a little vacant garment, Or a shining tress of hair, Tells her heart, in tones of anguish, That her baby is not there! |