Page:Poems Curwen.djvu/105

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her jewel.
97

He was his mother's only child—
A lovely boy just three years old,
With winsome face, and eyes of blue,
And hair of shining gold.

But one sad hour he stole away,
And to the water side he tripped;
No hand was near to save the boy,
And o'er the edge he slipped.

The cruel waters closed around
The dainty limbs and cherub face,
And when the little form was found,
Death held it in a close embrace.

I close the case with reverent touch.
Earth has its jewels rich and rare,
But worthless, when compared to this,
This priceless tress of golden hair.




A Little Blue Frock.
There's a little blue frock I laid away
    Long years ago;
It was only worn one Sabbath day,
    For an hour or so.
My fingers fashioned it with such joy—
    Such loving pride,
To grace the form of a tiny boy,
    My babe who died.