ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.
Reading edition
TO A MOTHER.
BY THE AUTHORESS OF "THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE".
His languid eyes are closing, On the pale, placid cheek, The lashes dark reposing, So wearily, so weak. He gasps with failing breath, A faint and feeble strife with death; Fainter and fainter still—'tis past. That one soft sigh—the last. Thy watching and thy fearing, Mother, is over now; The seal of death is bearing That pale but angel brow, And now in the deep calm That follows days of wild alarm, Thy heart sinks down, and weeps, and weeps, O'er him who silent sleeps. Oh, Mother, hush thy crying, The ill of life is o'er, E'en now his wings are flying Unto a happy shore; Those wings of stainless white Unfolded ne'er to earthly sight, He spreads them now, they bear him high Unto the angel company. From sight of evil shrinking, From thought of grief like thine At the first summons sinking Into the arms divine. Oh! thou who knowest life, Temptation, trial, toil and strife, Wilt thou not still thine aching breast To bless his early rest?