Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/168



Father and Lord! We know full well
 * Thy chastisements are for the best;
 * And while the loved and lost are blest,

Our hearts throb like a funeral bell,
 * Although the weary are at rest.

We bow to Thy decree, we bow
 * To that dread stroke which bore away,
 * To regions of eternal day,

Our darling boy, whose starry brow
 * Beamed like a golden morn of May.

And yet, dear God, how hard to yield,
 * Even to Thee, that precious life—
 * Bequeathed to glory without strife,

Without a scar or battle-field—
 * But with Love’s tenderest virtues rife.

He came to us as sunshine falls
 * Upon a sorrow-stricken hearth.
 * He came with innocence and mirth;

His voice made music in our halls—
 * How can we hide him in the earth?