the child and its angel-playmate.
221
"It says this is not life, but death,
A daily waste of mortal breath,
And still its sweet voice summoneth
Me to that other land;
But even while it whispers so,
The flowers around more brightly glow,
And yet—and yet, I pine to go,
And join that joyous band!
A daily waste of mortal breath,
And still its sweet voice summoneth
Me to that other land;
But even while it whispers so,
The flowers around more brightly glow,
And yet—and yet, I pine to go,
And join that joyous band!
"My mother! I'll come often back;
I'll not forget the homeward track,
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack
Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee;
I'll sing thee every soothing lay
I learn in heaven;—I'll lead the way
For thee to God;—my wings shall play
In dreams of light before thee!
I'll not forget the homeward track,
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack
Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee;
I'll sing thee every soothing lay
I learn in heaven;—I'll lead the way
For thee to God;—my wings shall play
In dreams of light before thee!
"Oh! mother; even now I hear
Melodious murmurs in my ear;
The child—the angel-child is near;
I see its light wings glow!
I see its pure and pleading smile!
It moves beside me all the while,
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile,
Sweet mother! let me go!
Melodious murmurs in my ear;
The child—the angel-child is near;
I see its light wings glow!
I see its pure and pleading smile!
It moves beside me all the while,
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile,
Sweet mother! let me go!
