THE LITTLE BOY I LOST.
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My lovely boy whose very thought Still makes his mother's eyes grow dim.Once when his little feet had dipped Almost in death's cold, cruel wave,I felt as if my heart would lie A broken thing upon his grave.
He loved me so—my baby son— His little hands would creep to mine,And mingling with my darker hair, His golden curls would glint and shine.Kiss after kiss his rosy lips Against my cheek would often press,And many times his playful hands Left finger-marks upon my dress.
Sweet, precious touches, I would prize And smile upon as mothers will;How gladly I would see again Those little hand-prints on me still.But many years have come and gone, My sunny child has passed away,And vainly I stretch out my arms To clasp him to my heart to-day.
