Poems (Chitwood)/Little Mary

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

LITTLE MARY.

When the Spring, with soft caresses,
Parted Winter's snowy tresses;
When across the grassy meadows
Violets smiled amid the shadows;
When the bee with light wing parted
The flower petals, honey-hearted;
And above the wood-stream's glitter,
Swallows flew, with merry twitter,
Many happy memories bringing
With 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 her
Till 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 brighter
Mary's cheek and forehead whiter;
Yet her brow was sweetly laden
With 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 given
Pass-word to the Court of Heaven.
Not with tears, but smiling rather,
Gave we Mary to the Father.