Forth from the glad circle, their sweet infants bringing,
Came parents, with mild, thoughtful mien;
What deep, tender thoughts in all bosoms were springing!
How solemn, how sacred the scene.

And I could not keep back the hot tears, my dear mother,
Which came thick and fast to my eyes;
For those babes made me think of my own darling brother,
Now gone to his home in the skies.

When this service was over, my playmates came round
And drew me away to the wood;
No longer light-hearted and merry they found me,
For thoughtful and sad was my mood.

So on the soft turf I sat silently thinking,
Of days when dear brother was by;
While slowly and surely the bright sun was sinking,
Far down in the clear western sky.

Ring, ring, went the bell; and then, O, what a hustling!
All knew 'twas the signal to part;
What searching for bonnets and boxes! what bustling!
All hurrying, eager to start.

We left ere the shadows of evening were dimming
The broad fields and woods all around;
And with our swift steam-horse, again we went skimming
Through village, and meadow, and town.