Part 5

My talks with Sorrow have been brief; She touched my robe, in gliding by-- And when I've chanced to meet with Grief, He's passed me with averted eye. Yet, through another's pain, I see Sometimes a glimpse of what may be.

And of all griefs that mortals know-- Of all that pierce the human heart, There seems to me no other woe Like that which rends the soul apart, When a fond mother sees death's night Sealing an infant's eyes of light.

The babe endeared by pangs and fears That she has suffered for its sake, The babe she watched above with tears, Or sat through lonely nights, awake. And sang some tender lullaby-- And all for this--to see it die.

And thinking of that stricken one, Who weeps to-day a double loss, Who sees a darkness o'er the sun Made by her overshadowing cross-- And thinking how her poor arms ache-- I shed some tears for her sad sake.

Yet in the perfect pure sunlight-- In flowers of beauty and perfume, I think God puts these souls so white, And gives them back to us in bloom. 'Tis thus we have the light and flowers, By yielding up these buds of ours.

In every golden, burnished ray, In every sweet unfolding leaf, Sad mother, you may find to-day Some little solace in your grief. God lets them comfort you this wise, Until you join them in the skies.

IN MEMORY OF CHARLIE SPAULDING.

Aged 6 years and 5 months; died July 4, 1875.

With eyes that scarce can see for tears, We look back o'er the little space Of baby Charlie's life. Six years Since first we looked upon his face.

Six years since from the angel band Our little cherub strayed away. We did not know or understand He was but lent, and could not stay.

We looked into his lovely eyes, So large, so soulful, and so deep, And knew he came from God's own skies, And thought that he was ours to keep.

But angels missed him 'round the Throne And ere his earthly years were seven, Christ called him, leaving us alone, To turn our sorrowing hearts to Heaven.

For now, no matter what may come, Wealth, fortune, honors, earthly bliss, No place can seem to us like home, Hereafter save where Charlie is.

Life could not grow so warm, so bright, No circumstances bring such joy, But that our thoughts each morn and night Would turn to Heaven and our boy.

The thought that we may meet him there, And walk with him the heavenly plain Alone can keep us from despair, And bring us comfort in our pain.

For Arthur, who is left below, Are many thorny paths to tread. His lips must drink of grief and woe; Not so with Charlie, who is dead.

For Arthur there must be, at best, Full many an hour of gloom and sorrow; For Charlie, dwelling with the blest, Joy only, through an endless morrow.

Walking the golden streets above, He watches o'er us ever more. God grant through Christ's redeeming love, We yet may meet him on that shore.

The thought of death is very sweet-- The grave can have no chill or gloom For those who have a child to meet Beyond in fields of living bloom.