DEATH.
———
BY MRS. C. H. W. ESLING.
———
Death came to a beautiful boy at play,
As he sat ’mong the summer flowers,
But they seem’d to wither and die away
In their very sunniest hours.
“I have come,” in a hollow voice, said Death,
———
BY MRS. C. H. W. ESLING.
———
Death came to a beautiful boy at play,
As he sat ’mong the summer flowers,
But they seem’d to wither and die away
In their very sunniest hours.
“I have come,” in a hollow voice, said Death,