Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/164

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knew her not, that fair young boy, Though cradled on her breast, He caught his earliest infant smile, And nightly sank to rest, For stern disease had changed the brow Once to his gaze so dear, And to a whisper sunk the voice That best he loved to hear.

So, stranger-like, he wondering gazed, While wild emotions swell, As with a deathlike, cold embrace, She breathed a last farewell, And to the Almighty's hand gave back The idols of her trust, And with a joyful hope went down To slumber in the dust.

Go, blooming babe, and fondly seek The path she trod below, And, girt with Christian meekness, learn To pluck the sting from woe— That so, to that all-glorious clime, Unmarked by pain or care, Thou, in thy Saviour's strength mayest come And know thy mother there.