Poems (Holmes)/On the Death of an Infant
For works with similar titles, see On the Death of an Infant.
On the Death of on Infant,
Dear infant, though thy playful smile Is checked by Death's pale stealthy form,Who locks thee in his cold embrace, And we its loss do deeply mourn; For oft it cheered our saddened hearts When o'er them, care dark shadows flung,As morning's light illumes the sky With night's black curtain overhung:—
Yet to a brighter, fairer world, Thy gentle spirit wings its way,Where saints their praise with angels join To Him whose mercy crowns each day.Though in the tomb thy beauty fades, As flow'rets nipped by winter's breath,Yet thou in yonder spirit-land Wilt bloom all free from pain and death.
Where from the pure celestial springs Bright streams of living waters flow,And fragrant amaranthine flowers On trees of life immortal grow.Then go, dear infant, and enjoy The bliss that is to angels given,And in our hearts thy smile shall dwell Till we shall meet again in heaven.