And when thou wouldst solace gather,
When our child’s first accents flow,
Wilt thou teach her to say “Father!”
Though his care she must forego?
When her little hand shall press thee,
When her lip to thine is pressed,
Think of him whose love had blessed thee,
Think of him thy love had blessed!
Four years the child remained the idol of her life, and kept alive in her heart the father’s memory—then the blow fell that almost crushed her—the loss of the child!
It was stolen while taking an airing in the park with its nurse.