Page:Poems for Children Sigourney 1836.pdf/79

 And speechless lay the baby-boy, His parents' pride and care. The struggle and the fever-pang That shook his frame were past, And there, with fix'd and wishful glance He lay,—to breathe his last.

Upon his sorrowing father's face He gazed with dying eye, Then raised a cold and feeble hand His starting tears to dry. And so he wip'd those weeping eyes Even with his parting breath; Oh! tender deed of infant love, How beautiful in death!

Yes,—ere that gentle soul forsook The fainting, trembling clay, It caught the spirit of that world Where tears are wip'd away. And still its cherish'd image gleams Upon the parent's eye,