Classic Poem

Sweet little one! thy life's young bud
Was nipt by Death's untimely frost,
Ere yet its opening bloom had shown
The world the beauty it has lost.

But better far for thee to die,
And shun this bitter world of ours,
Than stay to feel the raging storms
That often chill the sweetest flowers.

For calm is thine unbroken sleep,
And lovely flowers shall o'er thee bloom,
And pearly tear-drops nightly weep
Upon their lovelier sister's tomb.

Oh, could I cast these robes of life,
In calm repose like thee to lie,
And feel no more these piercing thorns,
But wake in heaven,—how sweet to die!