Page 454 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
P. 454

Ilia  eyes  were  wide  as  hiue-bells—
                                            His  mouth  like  a  flower  unblown—
                                         Two  bare  little  feet,  like funny  white  mice,
                                           Peeped  out from  his  snowy  gown ;
                                         And  we thought,  with  a  thrill  of  rapture
                                           That yet  had  a  touch  of  pain.
                                         When  June  rolls  around  with  her  roses,
                                           W e’ll  measure the boy  again.


                                         Ah  m e!  In a darkened  chamber,
                                           With  the sunshine  shut  away,
                                         Through  tears  that  fell  like a  bitter  rain,
                                            We measured  the boy to-day ;
                                         And  the  little bare  feet that  were  dimpled
                                           And  sweet  as  a  bubbling  rose,
                                         Lay  side by  side  together,
                                            Tn  the hush  of  a long repose !

                                         Up  from  the  dainty  pillow,
                                            White  as  the  risen  dawn,
                                         The fair  little  face  lay  smiling,
                                            With the  light  of  heaven  thereon—
                                         And the  dear  little  hands,  like  rose-leaves
                                            Dropped  from  a rose,  lay  still,
                                         Never  to  snatch  at  the  sunshine
                                            That crq^t to  the  shrouded  sill J

                                         W e  measured  the  sleeping  baby
                                            With  ribbons  as white  as  snow.
                                         For the shining  rosewood  casket
                                            That  waited  him  below ;
                                         And  out  of  the darkened  chamber
                                            We  went with  a  childish  moan—
                                         To  the  height  of  the  sinless  angels
                                            Our  little  one  had  grown!
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