LITTLE RELICS.
Only a baby's picture, With dimpled shoulders bare;Large blue eyes softly beaming, And rings of golden hair.
Only a faded relic, All wrinkled, soiled, and torn;'T is but a tiny stocking My little girl had worn.
Only a knot of ribbon, More precious far than pearls;It slipped, just as you see it, One evening from her curls.
Only her broken playthings,— Little dishes and her doll,Her pretty cups of silver,— You see I keep them all.
13
