Classic Poem

Aug. 1875

Bright skies, bright sea —
All happy things
That, borne on wings,
Cleave the long distance, glad and free —
A boat — swift swirls
Of foam-wake — boys and girls
And innocence and laughter — She
Was there, and was so happy; and I said: —
" God bless the children! "

Oct. 1879

Dead!
Dead , say you? " Yes, the last sweet rose
Is gathered " — Close, O close,
O, gently, gently, very gently close
Her little book of life, and seal it up
To God, who gave, who took — O bitter cup! O bell!
O folding grave — O mother, it is well —
Yes, it is well. He holds the key
That opens all the mysteries; and He
Has blessed our children — it is well.