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angel arms babe baby beautiful blessed bloom breast breath bright brother brow child close cold dark dead dear death deep DYING early earth eyes face fair Father fears feel felt flowers fond gazed gentle glad gone grave green grief grow hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven holy hope hour INFANT kiss knew laid leave light live lonely look lost meet morning mother mourn never night o'er once pain pale pass peace pray prayer pure quiet rest rise round seemed shade side sight silent sing sister sleep slumber smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring stars summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thou art thought tree turn Twas voice wake watch weep wild wings young
Page 109 - WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied — We thought her dying when she slept And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.
Page 85 - I have naught that is fair ?" saith he ; "Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
Page 98 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower ; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind...
Page 46 - O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies, And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise, And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go.
Page 85 - They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care ; And saints upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.
Page 75 - MOTHER, how still the baby lies ! I cannot hear his breath ; I cannot see his laughing eyes — They tell me this is death. My little work I thought to bring, And sat down by his bed, And pleasantly I tried to sing — They hushed me — he is dead. They say that he again will rise, More beautiful than now ; That God will bless him in the skies — 0, mother, tell me how...
Page 47 - All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call; It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all; The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.
Page 85 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. My Lord has need of these flowerets gay, The Reaper said, and smiled : Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child.
Page 106 - The food for grave inquiring speech he everywhere doth find: Strange questions doth he ask of me, when we together walk ; He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as children talk ; Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not on bat or ball, But looks on manhood's ways and works, and aptly mimics all. His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplext With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next...