Poems (Charlotte Allen)/Child weeping at a Grave-yard
CHILD WEEPING AT A GRAVE-YARD.
Dear child, why dost thou linger here, With such a look of grief!Let me brush oft that falling tear, And offer some relief.Thy little breast is young, to feel Affliction's poignant dart;Why doth the tear-drop silent steal? What sorrow grieves thy heart?
Art thou not cold, my little maid, And why this falling tear?With half-choked voice, she sweetly said, "My Mother's buried here!"Sweet Girl! this tribute of thy love, Due to thy parent's worth,Is registered in realms above, Far from this grovelling earth.
Although thy Mother sleeps in death, Beneath the earth's cold sod,Yet, with her last expiring breath, Her spirit rose to God.And when, dear child, thy life is o'er, May thy pure spirit meetThy sainted Mother, on that shore, Where souls congenial beat.