a mother's prayer in illness.
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A MOTHER'S PRAYER IN ILLNESS.
Yes! take them first, my Father! Let my doves
Fold their white wings in Heaven, safe on thy breast,
Ere I am call'd away! I dare not leave
Their young hearts here, their innocent, thoughtless hearts!
Ah! how the shadowy train of future ills
Comes sweeping down life's vista as I gaze!
My May! my careless, ardent-temper'd May!
My frank and frolic child! in whose blue eyes
Wi]d joy and passionate wo alternate rise;
Whose cheek, the morning in her soul illumes;
Whose little loving heart, a word, a glance,
Can sway to grief or glee; who leaves her play,
And puts up her sweet mouth and dimpled arms,
Each moment for a kiss, and softly asks,
With her clear, flute-like voice, "Do you love me?"
Ah! let me stay! ah! let me still be by,
Fold their white wings in Heaven, safe on thy breast,
Ere I am call'd away! I dare not leave
Their young hearts here, their innocent, thoughtless hearts!
Ah! how the shadowy train of future ills
Comes sweeping down life's vista as I gaze!
My May! my careless, ardent-temper'd May!
My frank and frolic child! in whose blue eyes
Wi]d joy and passionate wo alternate rise;
Whose cheek, the morning in her soul illumes;
Whose little loving heart, a word, a glance,
Can sway to grief or glee; who leaves her play,
And puts up her sweet mouth and dimpled arms,
Each moment for a kiss, and softly asks,
With her clear, flute-like voice, "Do you love me?"
Ah! let me stay! ah! let me still be by,
