Page:Hymns for Childhood, 1834.pdf/54

54 THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF.

"! call my brother back to me!   I cannot play alone; The summer comes with flower and bee—    Where is my brother gone?

The butterfly is glancing bright Across the sunbeam's track; I care not now to chase its flight— Oh! call my brother back!

The flowers run wild—the flowers we sowed Around our garden tree; Our vine is drooping with its load— Oh! call him back to me!"