Poems (Eaton)/The Little Empty Carriage
THE LITTLE EMPTY CARRIAGE.
I KNOW a little carriage, With lining soft and warm,With dainty covering to protect Its inmate from all harm:With wheels that o'er the matted floor. Or on the grassy street,When guided by a loving hand, Gave sound of music sweet—Gave sound of music to the ear, And gladness to the heartOf those, who called its owner dear, In life their sweetest part.
But now the lonely carriage Stands amid silence deep,No more the little dimpled hand Clasps it in broken sleep—No more the print of baby form Is left its depths among,As when his infant restlessness Was calmed by voice of song—And 'neath its shading roof, no more The dark and earnest eyeCatches with smiles the loving glance Of every passer-by.
Alas, the empty carnage! Alas, the aching heart!And lives made doubly desolate By sorrow's keenest dart!Ne'er did fairer, lovelier babe, Fill parent's heart with bliss;Ne'er did one short year yield more Of perfect happiness—But passing great as was the joy, So deep is now the loss,As when the melted ore runs out, More darkly glooms the dross.
While many a smitten household Laments its idols gone,And turns from dead to living face, To soothe its anguished moan,This little only darling one Of hearts, who, sorely tried,Had drank before this self-same cup, Closed his pure eyes and died.And by his sister's side, adorned With many a flowering wreath,They laid him in life's opening morn, Locked in the sleep of death.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, But loosened from earth's clod,The spirit springs on radiant wing And bows before its God.Father, anoint these heavy eyes And moaning hearts, to seeTheir new-born angel, clothed in light And happiness with Thee;Teach them that in their children's bliss Their lives may well be blest,That earth's stern duties once fulfilled, They'll meet in heavenly rest.