Poems (Truesdell)/Ida

by Helen Truesdell

IDA.

Disturb not her slumbers, but let her sleep on,
 In her beauty and innocence there:
The world was too dreary, too dark and too cold;
 She too lovely, too fragile and fair.

The soft breath of summer just passed o'er her brow,
 As the gentle dew kisses the flowers,
When she faded away, like a beautiful dream,
 To the land of Elysian bowers.

Sad, sad is the heart of that fond mother, now,
 Since the pet of her household is gone,
And faded away the sweet hope of her life,
 Which a halo around her had thrown.

Oh I why put our trust in the frail things of earth,
 When we know they so soon must decay;
Why make ourselves idols, and cling to them still,
 When we know that those idols are clay!