Page:The Miniature.pdf/6

 " Your birthday, my sweet sister,—   What shall my offering be? Here's the red grape from the vineyard,     And roses from the tree.

" But these are both too passing,    Fruit and flowers soon decay, And the gift must be more lasting     I offer thee to-day.

" 'Tis a joyful day, thy birthday—    A sunny morn in spring; Yet thy sweet eyes will be sadden'd     By the mournful gift I bring.

" Alas! my orphan sister,    You'll not recall the face, Whose meek and lovely likeness     These treasured lines retrace.

" It is your mother's picture;    You are so like her now— With eyes of tearful dimness,     And grave and earnest brow!

" Oh! be like her, my sister!   But less in face than mind; I would you could remember     One so tender and so kind.

" Oh, weep that angel mother!    Such tears are not in vain; Yet dry them in the hope, love,     We all shall meet again.

" And keep this gentle monitor,    And when you kneel in prayer, Deem an angel's eye is on you—     That your mother watches there.

" I'll believe that she rejoices    O'er her darling child to-day; God bless thee, dearest sister!     'Tis all that I can say."