No more my baby shalt thou lie, The grave must be thy cradle now; No taint of earth, no thought of sin, Yes, from mine arms thy soul hath flown That aye around the altar sing. Methought when years had rolled away, The boy-the youth--the man in thee! But thou hast past,-for ever gone, Farewell, my child, the dews shall fall, The earliest snowdrop there shall spring, Adieu my babe! if life were long, Soon on death's couch shall I recline; THE INFANT'S SMILE IN DEATH. Death found strange beauty on that cherub brow, And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose, On cheek and lip! he touched the veins with ice, And the rose faded. Forth from those hazel eyes There spake a wishful tenderness—a doubt Whether to grieve or sleep,-which innocence Alone can wear. With ruthless haste he bound The silken fringes of their curtaining lids For ever. There had been a murmuring sound With which her boy would charm his mother's ear, Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set His seal of silence. But there beamed a smile, So fixed and holy, on that marble brow,— Death gazed, and left it there; he dared not steal The signet ring of Heaven.-Mrs. Sigourney. B VOICES FROM THE DEAD. As one who walking in the twilight gloom And seeing not the forms from whence they come, With eye of sense their outward form and semblance; THE DYING CHILD TO HIS MOTHER. Cease here longer to detain me, Fondest mother, drowned in woe; Now thy kind caresses pain me; See you orient streak appearing, Hark! a voice the darkness cheering, Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee, Weep not o'er those eyes that languish, There, my mother, pleasures centre; Yet to leave thee sorrowing, rends me, Rise! may every grace attend thee; Rise! and seek to meet me there.-Cecil. |