the child and its angel-playmate.
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THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE.
"My child! thou droopest like a flower
That trembles 'neath the summer shower,
And day by day, and hour by hour,
More faint thy meek replying
To tender questionings of mine;
A dreamy sorrow, half divine,
Fills those dark eyes, that strangely shine;
My child, my child! thou'rt dying!"
That trembles 'neath the summer shower,
And day by day, and hour by hour,
More faint thy meek replying
To tender questionings of mine;
A dreamy sorrow, half divine,
Fills those dark eyes, that strangely shine;
My child, my child! thou'rt dying!"
"Sweet mother—no: but by my side,
Where'er I go," the child replied,
"Through all this glorious summer-tide,
Is one you cannot see—
A little child with sunny wings,
And eyes like Heaven;—of holy things,
With earnest voice, it talks and sings—
And softly plays with me!
Where'er I go," the child replied,
"Through all this glorious summer-tide,
Is one you cannot see—
A little child with sunny wings,
And eyes like Heaven;—of holy things,
With earnest voice, it talks and sings—
And softly plays with me!
