Original Poetry.

Evening Star, Issue 4098, 15 April 1876, Page 2 (Supplement)

Original Poetry.

A CHILD’S DEATH.

Up, far up from the ceaseless din, Where the dim gas casts its dusky light S Far from gay crowds of mirth and sin/ O’er a sick child’s bed I bend to-night. No mother stands in her kindness there, Softly bidding those sad tears cease; Till thy gentle life pass from this world of care To the bright land of the spirit’s peace. Low, low on the pillow I bent my head. With the little restless hand in mint*; Can death be coming so soon ? I said, Claiming a life so young as thine. Hot, so hot, on my cheeks there came The painful, flickering, feverish breath ; Pale, so pale, did that young face seem, Save the wavering flush that told of death. Oh, speak to me once ! I raised the head } Is the last word past, the last look given ’Midst the struggling breath, she faintly said, “ I am going home to my rest in heaven !*} Bright, so bright, in the evening skies The pale stars shed their peaceful light; Tears, sad tears, from my weary eyes Bitterly fell o’er her spirit’s flight. Yes, even now on the evening air, When grief or pain to my heart is given. It comes to me like a gentle prayer—- “ I am going home to my rest in Heaven. 1 * - Kitty,