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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509988" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Death Of The Pauper Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hush, mourning mother, wan and pale!<br>No sobs—no grieving now:<br>No burning tears must thou let fall<br>Upon that cold still brow;<br>No look of anguish cast above,<br>Nor smite thine aching breast,<br>But clasp thy hands and thank thy God—<br>Thy darling is at rest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Close down those dark-fringed, snowy lids<br>Over the violet eyes,<br>Whose liquid light was once as clear<br>As that of summer skies.<br>Is it not bliss to know what e’er<br>Thy future griefs and fears,<br>They will be never dimmed like thine<br>By sorrow’s scalding tears? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Enfold the tiny fingers fair,<br>From which life’s warmth has fled,<br>For ever freed from wearing toil—<br>The toil for daily bread:<br>Compose the softly moulded limbs,<br>The little waxen feet,<br>Spared wayside journeys long and rough,<br>Spared many a weary beat. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Draw close around the lifeless form<br>The shreds of raiment torn,<br>Her only birthright—just such rags<br>As thou for years hast worn;<br>Her earthly dower the bitter crust<br>She might from pity crave,<br>Moistened by tears—then, final gift,<br>A pauper’s lowly grave. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, raise thy spirit’s gaze above!<br>See’st thou yon angel fair,<br>With flowing robes and starry crown<br>Gemming her golden hair?<br>Changed, glorified in every trait,<br>Still with that beauty mild;<br>Oh! mourning mother, thou dost know<br>Thine own, thy late-lost child. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">An heir to heaven’s entrancing bliss,<br>Veiled in its golden glow,<br>Still thinks she of the lonely heart<br>Left on this earth below.<br>Courage!—not long thy weary steps<br>O’er barren wastes shall roam,<br>Thy daring prays the Father now<br>To quickly call thee home!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rosanna+Eleanor+Leprohon">Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509988" data-title="The Death Of The Pauper Child de Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon" data-description="Hush, mourning mother, wan and pale!
No sobs—no grieving now:
No burning tears must thou let fall
Upon that cold still brow;
No look of anguish cast above,
Nor smite thine aching breast,
But clasp thy hands and thank thy God—
Thy darling is at..."></div>
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