Select Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3547, 8 May 1880, Page 1

Select Poetry.

THE LITTLE GRAVE.

i " It's only a little grave," they said, 1 " Only just a child that's dead;" And so they carelessly turned away From the mound the spade had made that day; ' Ah! they did not know how deep a shade That little grave in our horns has made. I know the coffin was narrow and small; One yard would have served for an ample pall; " . " . . And one man in his arms could have borne away The rosewood and its freight of clay; But I know that darling hopes wore hid Beneath that little coffin lid. • I know that a mother stood that day - With folded hands by that form of clay; I know that burning tears were hid 'Heath the drooping lash and aching lid; And I know that her lip, and cheek, and brow, Were almost as white as her baby!s now. I know that some,things were hid away— The crimson frock and wrappings gay,, The little sock and half worn shoe, The cap with its plume and tassels blue; And an empty crib, with its covers spread, As white as the face of her guileless dead. " 'Tis a little grave; but oh! have a care, For many world-wide hopes are buried there; And ye, perhaps,~in coming years May see, like her, through blinding tearg, How much of light, how much of joy, " * Is buried with my only boy. —Chicago Tribune.