No glimmer of pale hatreds comes back as a token:
Yet still in our hearts we have heard the words spoken:--
"He hath overcome death--He hath passed through the grave--
He is able to save."




MINNIE

"_And Jesu called a little child unto him_."
MATT. xviii. 2.


Oh, my blossom, my darling, whose dimpled hands are cold!
Oh, my baby, my treasure, laid under the green mould!
Earth pressed on thy closed eyelids, and on thy sunny hair,
And folded hands, and smiling lips, so exquisitely fair.

Cold and dark are the night dews around thy grassy bed,
Instead of warm and loving arms beneath thy sunny head;
Oh, my blossom, my darling, the long nights through, awake,
I stretch my empty arms for thee,--my heart--my heart will break.

The autumn leaves are falling ungathered on the hill,
The soft October sun is bright, but the little hands are still;
And the little feet that chased them as frolicksome and light,
Have lain beneath them--can it be?--a whole day and a night.

The autumn winds will sigh and moan; the dreary, dreary rain