Poems (Barker)/To Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Cummings
In Memory.
To Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Cummings.
To Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Cummings.
Nature's tears with yours are falling O'er this fragile little flower,O'er this little pain-racked body, Freed at last from suffering's power.Darker grow the shadows round you, Deeper sinks the cruel pain,While you bear your darling baby Through the swiftly falling rain.
Look up, mother, gentle mother, Lift your aching, tear-wet eyes.See the Heavenly gates wide open, Hear the songs of Paradise.Heavy-hearted grief-bowed father, Turn you from this open grave,On your Savior's gentle bosom Lies the babe you could not save.
Little hands whose tiny fingers Twined about your very life,Folded softly on the bosom That shall know no more of strife.Little eyes that looked the love-light They as yet could never tell,Shall grow brighter in that country Where your babe has gone to dwell.
Little lips, whose tender kisses On your faces linger yet,Soon shall learn your names to murmur, For your babe will not forget.All the tender love you lavished Into brightest flowers will bloom,Even earth will be the better For their beauty and perfume.