Poems (Toke)/Florence, sweet Florence! sainted, suffering child

by Emma Toke

LORENCE, sweet Florence! sainted, suffering child,
 Our grievous loss is thy eternal gain;
 Thy little life was one long day of pain;
But, by earth's lightest shadow undefiled,
Baptismal drops still bright upon thy brow,
 Thy rest is won. From sin and sorrow free,
We know that thou art safe for ever now;
 And weep, but for ourselves and not for thee.
We miss thy sunny smiles and winning ways,
 The thousand charms that made thee more than dear;
But though this cloud must shadow all our days,
 We would not if we could recall thee here;
And only pray, when our last hour is come,
Where all are such as thou, we too may find our home.

E.

January 30, 1853,