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Lydia Huntley Sigourney (Лидия Сигурни) Herbert Foss Only son of SAMUEL S. FOSS, Esq., died May 23d, 1859, aged three years and three months. "Read more, Papa," the loving infant cried,-- And meekly bow'd the listening ear, and fix'd The ardent eye, devouring every word Of his dear picture book. And then he spread His arms, and folded thrice the father's neck. --The mother came from church, and lull'd her boy To quiet sleep, and laid him in his crib; And as they watch'd the smile of innocence That sometimes lightly floated o'er his brow That Sabbath eve, they to each other said, "_How beautiful._" There was another scene,-- The child lay compass'd round with Spring's white flowers, Yet heav'd no breath to stir their lightest leaf. And many a one who on that coffin look'd And went their way, in tender whisper said "_How beautiful!_" Oh parents, ye who sit Mourning for HERBERT, in your empty room, What if the darling of your fondest care Scarce woke from his brief dream and went to Heaven? --Our dream is longer, but 'tis mixed with tears. For we are dreamers all, and only those Fully awake, who dwell where naught deceives. So, when time's vision o'er, you reach the land Which hath no need of sun, or waning moon To give it light, how sweet to hear your child Bid you "_good morning_" with his cherub tongue. His last words to his father, who was reading to him in a favorite book, were, "Read, more, papa, please read more." Soon after, and almost without warning, he died. Lydia Huntley Sigourney's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1218 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |