[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]


OB. OCT. 12, 1879

Aug. 1875

BRIGHT skies, bright sea—
All happy things
That, borne on wings,
Cleave the long distance, glad and free—
A boat—swift swirls
Of foam-wake—boys and girls
And innocence and laughter—She
Was there, and was so happy ; and I said —
" God bless the children!"

Oct. 1879


Dead, say you ? " Yes, the last sweet rose
Is gathered "—Close, O close,
O, gently, gently, very gently close
Her little book of life, and seal it up
To God, who gave, who took—O bitter cup O bell !
O folding grave—O mother, it is well—
Yes, it is well. He holds the key
That opens all the mysteries ; and He
Has blessed our children—it is well.


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