Poems (Eytinge)/A silent house
A SILENT HOUSE.
How oft I stilled the noisy chatter,How often hushed the childish patter, And wished that song and play would cease, And prayed for just one moment's peace! The broken toys I cast aside, With angry word a fault would chide;But now that great EternityDoth separate my child from me. I walk about from room to room, And shudder when the gathering gloomBrings silence and a dull despair,And memories of golden hair, And rosy lips and laughing eyes, With all the joy that in them lies;And when I kneel at close of day,I clasp my hands and humbly pray— "Oh, God! that I may be forgiven, And meet my little child in Heaven!"