The baby's things: a story in verse for Christmas eve . was it then that she turned aside,And the cherished relic tend, ilv cv < <|. Ah I there was something dearer hereThan rich old wood and carvings here the mother had laid away,Out of the reach of every day,Her babys things, such a precious store!In her eyes sacred forevermore. (10) 20 THE BABY S THINGS. Oh, what a flood of reflections bring-sThe sight of a dear dead babys things !The snow-white sUps, so simple and neat;Socks that would do for a cherubs feet;Blankets of flannel, so soft and warm,Against the chill of the wint
The baby's things: a story in verse for Christmas eve . was it then that she turned aside,And the cherished relic tend, ilv cv < <|. Ah I there was something dearer hereThan rich old wood and carvings here the mother had laid away,Out of the reach of every day,Her babys things, such a precious store!In her eyes sacred forevermore. (10) 20 THE BABY S THINGS. Oh, what a flood of reflections bring-sThe sight of a dear dead babys things !The snow-white sUps, so simple and neat;Socks that would do for a cherubs feet;Blankets of flannel, so soft and warm,Against the chill of the winters storm ;Wrappers of muslin, so thin and cool,Forthe days of the sultry summers rule;The jaunty cap, with its crisp rosette;The quilted jacket of satinet;The gossamer veil to shield the face;The dainty shoes with their ties in place ;The zephyr sacks with their borders bright;The cloak Avith its cape, so warm but light;Every possible color and and orange, purple and blue ;Oh, this was a wardrobe rich and fairAs ever a baby boy did wear!. Thus sat the mother this Christmas Eve, Bending over the bureau drawer • — Page 21. THE HABY S THINGS. Thus sat the mother this Christmas Eve,Bcndiii^^ over the bureau drawer,Turning its contents oer and oer,Examining every little sleeve,Smoothing out fondly the flowing skirts,()[)cning and folding the knitted shirts,Sadly caressing the empty shoes,Assorting the little socks by twos,Spreading the wrappers u|)on her knees,Stroking the blankets* silky dropping on every garment dearThe fresh perfume of a tender tiicv had lain from the very dayTliat the baby died ; and to give awayThese tilings for some other child to a tliought the mother could never bear. True, they were useless lying there. She might never want them herself again. 22 THE babys THINGS. Some at least she might easily spare, And let the rest in their place a godsend even a few would be,To many a child of poverty ! This ha
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookpublishernewyorkadfrandolph
