Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1843-05-12
POETRY.
THE BOY AND HIS ANGEL,
by MRS. c. 81. SAWYER.
p.pr


PART T.
"Oh, mother I've been with angel today
was out, alone, in the forest at play
And beiti"g vi tho woodpeckei tapping The trees
50 played and played ye I'LL SO weary grew
While the birds sang sweetly high up on it's top,
| held my BREATH mother, for fear they would stop
Aud watching The clouds that went hurrying BY,
When heard voice calling Just over my head
That sounded il, come, oh brother y II is said
And there, right up over tho top of the tree,
oh, mother, an angel was beck'nns to me
'And brother once more, come, oil, brothorr he CRIED
And flew on light pnions close down by my sidel
And, mother, oh, never was being bright,
As the which then beamed on my wondering sight!
His face fair as the delicate shell,
His hair down his shoulders in fair rnglets foil,
With eyes resting me, melting with love,
Were soft and as mild us the eyes of dovo
And somehow, dear mother felt not afraid
As his hand my brow he catessngy laid,
And whispered so softly aud gently to me,
Come, brother the angels are waiting Tor thoeP
And then on my forehead he tendetly pressed
Such ksses-oh mother, they thrilled thro' my breast,
AS swiftly as lightning leaps down from on high,
When the chariot Of God rolls along the black sky!
While his breath floating round me, was soft as the breeze
That played in my resses, and tustcd the trees'
At last my head deep blessing he poured,
Then plumed his bright pnions and upward he scared
And up, up, he went, through the blue sky, so far,
He seemed to float there like glering star,
Yet still my eyes followed his radiant flight,
Till, lost in the azure he passed from my sight
Them OH how feared, as caught the last CLEAN
OF his vanishing form, it only dream!
When soft voices whispered once from the tree,
Come, brother, the angels are waiting Tor theoP"
pARr II.
Oh pale grew that mother, and heavy her heart,
For she knew her fair boy from this world must depart
That his bright locks fade in the dust of the tomb
Ere the autumn winds whered the summers rich bloom!
Oh how his young footsteps she watched day by day,
As his delicate form wasted slowly away,
Till the soft light of heaven seemed shed DER his face
And he crcpt up to die in her loving embrace !
Oh clasp me- dear MOTHER close, close your breast,
On that gentle pillow again let me rest
Let gaze up once more to that dear, loving eye,
And then, oh, methinks, can willingly die
Now kiss me, dear mother oh, quickly! for sec
Tho bright blessed angels waiting for me ~
Oh wild the anguish that swept through her breast,
As the long, frantic Kiss his pale lips she pressed,
And felt the vain search of his soft, pleading eye,
As it meet hers the fair boy could die,
&" see you not, mother, for darkness and night,
Are hiding your dear loving face from my sight
But hear your low sohblng-dear mother, good bye
The angels ready to bear high!
| will wait for you theTe-but oh, tarry not long,
Lest grief absence should sadden my sOng!
lie ceased aud his hands meeky casped his breast,
While his sweet face sank down its pillow of rest,
Them closing his eyes, all now rayless and dim,
Went up with the angels that waited for him /!