Classic Poem

Hush ! 'tis a little coffin, and a tiny form is there:
Only a promise-bud is plucked from out a garden fair.
Rare blossoms, full-bloomed, fragrant, and beautiful remain:
Why miss one little mignonette from out the gorgeous train?

Ah! but the babe was precious to the yearning mother's heart:
This early gathered flow'ret seemed of her own life a part;
And though the casket was so small, 'twas cast in no rough mould,
And held a jewel costlier far than El-Dorado's gold.

That baby form, so frail and weak, divinity enshrined, —
A spark of heaven's holiest fire, a young immortal mind.
Affection true and tender in its helplessness it woke;
And tendrils round fond hearts intwined, which Death hath never broke.

A feeble infant once it was, a suffering, patient child;
But now upon the shining shore, all safe and undefiled,
'Twill grow a strong-winged angel, and blessings bear to her
Whose never-waning love will prove o'er death a conqueror.

That love outstretches all the little bounds of time,
And knows its only limit on that holy height sublime,
Where faith is lost in sight, and those who said " Farewell! "
With all they love, in bowers of bliss, forevermore shall dwell.