LITTLE RUTH.
I cannot feel that she is gone
So far, so far away;
Her little heart close to my own
Is beating day by day.
Ah! tender are these human ties;—
May heaven at last reveal
Why on her eyes a slumber lies
E’en tears cannot unseal.
A look this darkness would displace
With a divine delight;
The soul’s rare grace in her fair face,—
It was a blessed sight!
Her hair a happy halo wore,
That lit the hearth and hall;
Alas! no more my study door
Heeds her confiding call.
Dear lips! where mirth and music wrote
The lore in Eden sung;
Seemed every note from her sweet throat
By elf or angel strung.
The robin, hark! is here again,
To woo the wondrous child;
But all in vain his ardent strain,—
Death may not be beguiled.
Sleep, Darling, sleep; we will not weep,
Nor moan or murmur make;
But oh! how deep the dreamless sleep,—
Would God she might awake!
Asleep? awake! the Shepherd takes
His little lamb above;
And where she wakes the morning breaks
In everlasting love.
But I cannot feel that she is gone
So far, so far away;
For her little heart close to my own
Keeps beating day by day.