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The Child
A gracious child whose lovely face
  Still beamed with the night of Heaven,
Whose lips still wore the happy smile
  An angel's kiss had given.

And the parents hearts by the dimpled hands
  Were pressed so close together,
They called them one, nor ever dreamed
  That aught their heart could sever.

She twined bright flowers in the mothers hair,
  But the mother could not keep her;
With a laugh she sprang to her father's arms,
  And the light in his eye grew deeper.

A few bright years, and the happy face
  Had lost its innocent gladness;
And in the depths of those wonderful eyes
  Lay a look of reproachful sadness.

And stiller and weaker day by day
  She clung to her mother sighing,
And the mother wept through the long dark nights
  For her beautiful child that was dying.

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