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Reminiscences Of The Departed.
By Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow
His mission soon accomplished,
His race on earth soon run,
He passed to realms of glory,
Above the rising sun.
So beautiful that infant,
When in death's arms he lay;
It seemed like peaceful slumber,
That morn might chase away.
But morning light was powerless,
Those eyelids to unclose;
And sunshine saw and left him,
In undisturbed repose.
The light of those blue orbs
That drank the sunbeams in,
Now yields to night, and darkness
Holds undisputed reign.
That little form so graceful,
The light brown chestnut hair;
Those half formed words when uttered,
That face so sweet and fair;
All, all his ways so winning,
Were impotent to save
His life, when called to yield it
By Him that life who gave.
So soon his voyage ended,
The passage home so short,
Before he knew of evil,
He entered safe the port.
Since thee, my child, I saw,
Long years have passed away;
Thy mother's hair then brown,
Now's intermixed with gray.
Another link's been broken,
By death's relentless hand;
A daughter has been taken,
The eldest of the band.
Thy little lamp of life,
Was put out in a day;
But hers was years expiring,
By slow yet sure decay.
But one short year of life,
Was all allotted thee;
But she, thy eldest sister,
Was many years spared me.
And though long since we parted,
On earth to meet no more;
I'd think of thee as children
"Not lost, but gone before."
Feb. 20, 1853.
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