The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1855-04-21
OrioilloI 1}ostrn.
GF.ittie GTlHElie.@

I'br Tie Cecil hg.

.csnectrully inscribed to j. Gu-u. Of Pot DeIts't
We made her bcautitul-our little los
Crinnie ''-beautiiul even in the grave-wit
he hrilal-whitc rosc-budS and the wild rec
blossoms of July. The golden hair of TIT
little one shonc glorious--'ikc the hair Sf al
iugel--about the white smiling face in th
oflin, and We knew that she rested sin tn,
rcrn meadows by the still waters Of til,
etter IanI,' where there is no more crying
c.,icr say they any more thro' the night
me 81 am weary"
Down the April vallics brightly
Brooks like living lsalters run,
And the buds from emerald chambers
Lean out glorious to the sun;
In The church. yard very lonesome,
Very silent and serene.
Lies Il little narrow gravc-mound,
Iait with grasses tail and green.
Oh, the weary, weary mornings!
On the drcary, dreary eves
Sadder than the autnmn CRYING
Under summers crown Of lca"eS;
Go the dismal days awaring
70 the dismal mid night tide,
Since with solemn cnes around her,
Precious little Crnnie died.
Only four white moons had Sunkcn
From the starry paths of Time,
Since the other blessed sister,
Climbed the hills Of God sublime;
" Cnt up TO the throne Of ages,
iiro' the jasper gates Of day.
While til. watchers from her forehead
Saw the cartllight fade away.
Yc who saw her when The angels
Claspcd her from your last embrace,
While the smile or the Eternal
Fall across her gentle face,
Heard her clear triunl hant singing,
Shake the chambers Of til" sod,
'TiIl the anthem rising higher,
Flowed Into the song OF God.
Do not mourn t'tat little Crine,
Kindly saved from earthly care,
With the starry smile Of tif'lfhoud
Glowing in her golden hair;
Hearing songs Of dcathlcss beauty,
Seeing fields Of endless bloom,
Lett the hills OF life. and fearless
Walked the dismal vale Of gloom.
"Comb my hair, sweet sister Jennie,
Gather all the curlS away,
For they press SO hot and heavy
On my burning face to-day;
Kiss NE very often sister,
When lie 50 still and white,
That | cannot hcary"u CRYING
Tiro' the long and lonesome night.
And You II sometimes come, my brother
To our quiet beds and weep,
Whore in sirouds as white rs lilies,
| and Mary swectly sleep.
And lfalty one shorll ask Won,
Why SO many tears are she'd,
You will make them answer, saying
For the dear ones who are dead.
Last night as ! Jay SrrcncIy
Some one called to ,nr aud said,
"%"c! the white >linud is uifoided''-
Aud I did not feel airAil,
For u ir'ui put back the cnrtrins
GA, SO softly! amt knew
Sister Mary. tor She whispered,
"Littlc one We wait for yor.'
Hold me close and kiss me mother,
Do not shake and trrnblc So,
am very weary, mother,
But do not tear to 90;
Now It's dark cannot see you,
Now ! cannot hear you cry,
Brut.lrla-->istrIs--t atlicr-motlicr-
All love on eart!!-goud byo!'
Then the mother from ncr bosom
Laid the duiiu%'s golden head,
And the watchers fell a-wecpng,
For they knew that She WAS dead.
When the July weather brightens
On the liili-tops wild and high,
Or along the gusty vallics
Bitter winds Of autumn cry;
We WHO loved them, weep not for them,
Lying in the lonesome grave,
Wrapped in shrouds as white as lilies,
Crowned with lovely flowers yc gave.
Fort Deposit. EMMA ALICE BRowSE.