The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1855-06-30
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For The Cecil VI hig.
TO LITTLE TOM RICKETTS,.
ROSE g.EAF.--EO. 1.
I.ITTLl; LIZZIE.

WHY is it that the birth of an immortal soul
unto beauty and holiness eternal should MI
the house of life with shadows and darkness
no candlcliglt may illumnc, and the heart
with voice OF waiting no earthly music may
drown! yellow leaves as well as sunshine
OVERFLOW every fate, as is made manifest
every day and every hour, yet still we SHRINK
frightened and trembling from the approach
of he litter $. O nm thai We are well assured must
come some time and reap the ripe harvest of
hopes planted in the dry sand of the world
We may steep our senses III the golden wells
Of earthly plcasure--we may drink deeply
the nr,,enthe of forgetfuness, but there is Il
fair Temple within, which no shadow can
darkcn--no fallen and broken projects cover
no ivy of SORROW overrun; and though the
beautiful garden may be wasted, the bright
blossoms wthcrcd in the dust, the glorious
statuary shvered and thrown down-stll rle
winged worshippcr wiH come in and the smile
Of the glory Of God rest like halo over the
white altar torever;-I mean the temple
palace of the soul.
There is Il death in the house and two in
my heart. The dead Lizzic-thc baby Liz
zir with mysterious blue eyes and yellow
hair. like wet moss taking the April sunshine
out of the wild sobbing rain cloud-shc is
dead. And so there is death in my heart,
aye, and new birth-thc death Of the earth
hope and the earth love, and the birth of n
deep sorrow and higher hope ovcr-winging
the great woe and reaching up into the life
that is immortal. | see thee yet, little one,
looking away over the wide meadows, the
lonesome river and the dreamy hills from my
west window, as tho that great intultvc love
Of thine would annihiutc all time and dis
lance that lay between thee and the father
th"n didst never know, save in syllablcs Of
tenderness, woven out of the web Of death
less affection and suffering, hidden in the
heart and life Of thy beautiful, sad mother,
who was--a deserted wife! Deserted for Il
mighty and irrcprcssahle ycaming to drink
Of the golden wells ofcndlcss wealth, dclvcd
ont of the dead sand of the far-away III Do
RADIO, the glorious vision of lifelong dream
made perfect. Now thou art just here, where
] write, gazing up in my face with that strange
Marcl-vioet look, out Of the mystery Of blue
eyes guarded by golden gateway Of lashcs
that were in their own beauty another mys-
tory.
Art thou mortal, vert thou born Of wind
sprlc over the wild sunny seal or of hui
t,au mother heir to the rude overthriIs of
sorrow and .joy-wedded even in thy baby
hood to Il quick, passionate niscry-a ycarn-
ing hope!
..Will Papa come again - came to he the
burden of thy young lip song, and death
cAanted the refrain :-.sWhen the Angels
take thee, swcet'' SO when thou vert
weary of thy long and truitlcss watch, they
Folded the pretty baby hands over Il little SIN
less, pnlsclcss bosom, parted the Showcry
yellow hair and kissing the sweet shut eyes.
lid thee down in such lovely slumbcr the
very heart Of the stricken mother stood still
with Il holy .jov---Thc rain fell over
the caves and built silver column by the win
dow and doorway when Lizzie died; so that
with the crying of the wind, the weeping OF
the clouds and the weeping of the watchers
there was no lack of tears and death hymns
Tor The lost one.
When the wild mist broke away from the
sunset woods, like flocks Of gorgeous birds,
azure and purple ard fiery gold flying
southwark, and when the dim light had
rained into the throbbing sea, we all kissed
her long s'Good night smoolhed the last
fold Of the white shroud, scaled the sweet
starlight out of the dark coffin forever, and
left her knowing that God and the Angels
were will, her, the same, for all the black
shadows and mouldering silence of little
baby's grave, EMMA ALICE BROWNE.
EILinn Iunn Oil ~