Poems (Chitwood)/Little Mary
LITTLE MARY.
When the Spring, with soft caresses,Parted Winter's snowy tresses;When across the grassy meadowsViolets smiled amid the shadows;When the bee with light wing partedThe flower petals, honey-hearted;And above the wood-stream's glitter,Swallows flew, with merry twitter,Many happy memories bringingWith the cadence of their singing,Rising, falling, sinking, swelling;—Lingered there within our dwelling,Light and graceful as a fairy,One fair child—our little Mary.She had prayed, in hours of winter,That life's taper might be lent herTill she saw the Spring-time flowers,Heard the birds amid the bowers;Then she said, with gentle sighing,"Half the pain is gone of dying."
Days passed on, the flowers grew brighterMary's cheek and forehead whiter;Yet her brow was sweetly ladenWith the white, pure dews of Eden;Love-light o'er her soul was gleaming;Happy, smiling in her dreaming, Speaking of the angel-warder,Standing at the heavenly border,Till at last the soul was givenPass-word to the Court of Heaven.Not with tears, but smiling rather,Gave we Mary to the Father.