30
The Little Empty Carriage.
But now the lonely carriage
Stands amid silence deep,
No more the little dimpled hand
Clasps it in broken sleep—
No more the print of baby form
Is left its depths among,
As when his infant restlessness
Was calmed by voice of song—
And 'neath its shading roof, no more
The dark and earnest eye
Catches with smiles the loving glance
Of every passer-by.
Stands amid silence deep,
No more the little dimpled hand
Clasps it in broken sleep—
No more the print of baby form
Is left its depths among,
As when his infant restlessness
Was calmed by voice of song—
And 'neath its shading roof, no more
The dark and earnest eye
Catches with smiles the loving glance
Of every passer-by.
Alas, the empty carnage!
Alas, the aching heart!
And lives made doubly desolate
By sorrow's keenest dart!
Ne'er did fairer, lovelier babe,
Fill parent's heart with bliss;
Ne'er did one short year yield more
Of perfect happiness—
But passing great as was the joy,
So deep is now the loss,
As when the melted ore runs out,
More darkly glooms the dross.
Alas, the aching heart!
And lives made doubly desolate
By sorrow's keenest dart!
Ne'er did fairer, lovelier babe,
Fill parent's heart with bliss;
Ne'er did one short year yield more
Of perfect happiness—
But passing great as was the joy,
So deep is now the loss,
As when the melted ore runs out,
More darkly glooms the dross.
