. Pictures in verse. THE MOURNER ANSWERED. A MID the twilights gathering gloom, She knelt beside her babes new tomb. My child, she sighd, did heaven not knowHow deep and dread would be my woe?For this did nature give thee birth, For this,—to bury thee ?—O God ! She groand then started. Earth to lips had kissd the common sod. Amid lifes flowers that fade and fall, What need to pluck a bud so small? With ripend harvest full supplied. What need had heaven of thee? she cried; Then markd the flowers that, while she stoopd, Een yet made sweet her last-brought wreath :Each full-blown leaf h
. Pictures in verse. THE MOURNER ANSWERED. A MID the twilights gathering gloom, She knelt beside her babes new tomb. My child, she sighd, did heaven not knowHow deep and dread would be my woe?For this did nature give thee birth, For this,—to bury thee ?—O God ! She groand then started. Earth to lips had kissd the common sod. Amid lifes flowers that fade and fall, What need to pluck a bud so small? With ripend harvest full supplied. What need had heaven of thee? she cried; Then markd the flowers that, while she stoopd, Een yet made sweet her last-brought wreath :Each full-blown leaf had dropt or droopd ; The buds alone bloomd bright beneath. Why leave, O God, was then her moan, My widowd soul still more alone?Why wrest from life the last thing dear?What harm that love should linger here ? And lo, the neighboring spire above Sent forth a sound that calld to prayer;And music fiUd from lips of love The House of God whose door was there. 42. MUSICIAN AND MORALIZER. A17HAT am I doing, night and day,^ Loitering here with the flute ?—Doing ?—why blowing my plaints away,Off, till I blow them mute. Foolish am I ?—It may be so. Who, forsooth, are the wise?I to the wind my sorrows blow ; Others hoard up their sighs. 43 44 MUSICIAN AND MORAIIZER. Useless am I?—The while I play, Many another ones heartThrobs to my melody, till, they say. All of his woes depart. Nothing of sweetness fills the air,Nothing of beauty blooms, Save as a vision of life more fairOver the spirit looms. Listen to this now—mine and thine. How could I show more worth,Than as a reed for a breath divine. Blowing from heaven to earth ? Music-mad am I ?—Have your say,Whether you blame or applaud, I the behest of my soul obey,Just as it came from God.
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Keywords: ., bookauthorraymondg, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookyear1894
