Classic Poem

The summer winds sing lullaby
O'er Mary's little grave,
And the summer flowers spring tenderly,
O'er her their buds to wave.
For oh, her life was short and sweet
As the flowers which blossom aTher feet.

A little while the beauteous gem
Bloom'd on the parent breast;
Ah! then it wither'd on the stem,
And sought a deeper rest;
And we laid on her gentle frame the sod,
But we knew her spirit was fled to God.

The birds she loved so well to hear
Her parting requiem sing,
And her memory lives in the silent tear,
Which the heart to the eye will bring;
For her kind little feelings will ne'er be forgot
By those who have mourn'd her early lot.

The summer winds sing lullaby
O'er Mary's little grave,
And the summer flowers spring tenderly,
O'er her their buds to wave.
For oh, her life was short and sweet
As the flowers which blossom aTher feet.

A little while the beauteous gem
Bloom'd on the parent breast;
Ah! then it wither'd on the stem,
And sought a deeper rest;
And we laid on her gentle frame the sod,
But we knew her spirit was fled to God.

The birds she loved so well to hear
Her parting requiem sing,
And her memory lives in the silent tear,
Which the heart to the eye will bring;
For her kind little feelings will ne'er be forgot
By those who have mourn'd her early lot.