Sunshine laughed never on thy brow
When grief did mine enshroud.
I miss thy winsome tenderness—
Thy music-tones, so charmed to bless;
I miss thy soothing, fond caress—
Thy sweet lips on mine own.
Carrie, my child! thou wouldst not be
Thus mute in my keen agony.
Again I am alone!
Then hide that face from out my sight!