TO MY SISTER R. S. B.
Oh, broken-hearted mother! bowed in tears
Above the quiet form of thy dead boy,
Think how the current of the coming years
Had swept him from thee both in grief and joy.
Now he is thine, and, in yon world of bliss,
Shall fly to meet thee with his innocent face
Lit with the love that bound your souls in this,
And thou shalt take thy own, thy mother-place.
Above the quiet form of thy dead boy,
Think how the current of the coming years
Had swept him from thee both in grief and joy.
Now he is thine, and, in yon world of bliss,
Shall fly to meet thee with his innocent face
Lit with the love that bound your souls in this,
And thou shalt take thy own, thy mother-place.
Another bends above her new-born child,
With smiles of joy! Oh God! could we but see
Beyond earth's narrowing bounds, this anguish wild
Would soften into peace; for, safe with Thee,
Shielded forever on Thy sheltering breast,
From sin and sorrow, this sweet boy is blest.
With smiles of joy! Oh God! could we but see
Beyond earth's narrowing bounds, this anguish wild
Would soften into peace; for, safe with Thee,
Shielded forever on Thy sheltering breast,
From sin and sorrow, this sweet boy is blest.