Classic Poem

" Mother, how still the baby lies, —
I cannot hear his breath;
I cannot see his laughing eyes —
They tell me this is death.

My little work I thought to bring,
And sat down by his bed,
And pleasantly I tried to sing, —
They hushed me — he is dead.

They say that he again will rise,
More beautiful than now, —
That God will bless him in the skies —
Oh, mother, tell me how! "

" Daughter, do you remember, dear,
The cold, dark thing you brought,
And layed upon the casement here, —
A wither'd worm you thought?

I told you that Almighty power
Could break that withered shell,
And show you, in a future hour,
Something would please you well.

Look at the Chrysalis, my love, —
An empty shell it lies; —
Now raise your wandering thoughts above
To where yon insect flies! "

" Oh yes, mamma! how very gay
Its wings of starry gold —
And see! it lightly flies away
Beyond my gentle hold!

Oh, mother, now I know full well —
If God that worm can change,
And draw it from this broken cell,
On golden wings to range;

How beautiful will brother be,
When God shall give him wings,
Above this dying world to flee,
And live with heavenly things.