Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1862-04-16
Aye, Who Does Not Remember

What parent who has been bereft of {
loved little daughter can read the follow
! ing, without believing the paper witt
tears? The lines are truly pathetic; and
to us, impressive:
1 REMEMBER
A pair of blue eyes-long sunny brown
curls, and lips that would make you think
of ripe cherries, as much as those cheek:
would of roses.
remember pair of dimpled arms and
shoulders, a large straw hat wreathed
with fiowers-and crimson frock trim.
medwith white braid-apair of red moroc-
co shoes and pinafore.
| remember a little brown cottage
among the naples, where laughing, bab.
bling stream meandered by, and the birds
sing all day long-the steep hill at the
right-the garden with its wealth OF
marigolds," " - touch me nots" and "ev,
ening beauties" the porch festooned with
"morning-glories," the graveled path
bordered with pinks leading to the gate
the old well with its iron-bound bucket,
and unwieldly sweep and moss-lined curb
and martin box, and the white curtains
at the parlor windows.
/ remember the blue skies-and downy
clouds hecked with crimson, and starry
nights when the moon shone, and winter
nights when the snow lay on the ground
when there was Ginning of bells and peals
of laughter. / remember snatches OF
rhyme and pattering of little feet-and
noise of playful chattering to dolls and
the chime of broken dishes, and certain
performances on jewsharps.
I rapoaroh ha,r n trpaaf 1aa1 mona tl,o,, oil
this. | remember a day when toys and
careful hands-when the little worn red
shoes, and crimson frock, and white pin,
afore were laid away, almost sacredly, in
an unused drawer up stairs-when there
was no lsnghter-nO pattering of foot
steps When the crib was showed back
against the wall, and the little empty
little chair was put back in distant cor.
ner. | remember tears and moans-and
little, calm, dead face in a coffin.
Dead! did say deadl No, that cannot
be; you are living in my heart; in my
memory, darling; living where no sick
ness or pain can come, no death destroy
In Hearea, thank Cod
There is little grave out under the
maples-there are very many such graves
there are very many broken hearts,
Well it is there is One who can heal them
There are many vacant cribs, and emp
ty chairs, and desolate homes. What
What should we do if He had not said
suffer little children to como unto me?"
Let me see the little crib, and chair and
crimson dress, and the red shoes, and the
white pinafore, don't hide them away
Strew the playthings that she loved, the
bits of broken china, the jewsharp, the
dolls, and paper dresses all around.
may shed tears over them, but they'll not
be bitter ones-the prints of little fingers
upon the furniture, don't erase them. the
marks of little footsteps here and there,
don't efface them; the little hat with
faded flowers twisted around il, let il hang
where her little hands put it; that won't
grieve me now, don't turn up the dog-ear-
ed leaves of her little primmer, her fin
gers made them. Put plate at the ia
bic where she used to sit, and a high
chair at its place-it will seem the more
as if she were at play or running in the
garden, not as if we had shut her out, not
asst as if she were dead?
/ remember; aye, who does not re-
member? Who is there on the wide
earth who has not some sacred memory
hid away from the prying eyes of the
world ?-some recollection between which
and mammon's worshipper veil is forev'
er drawn? Who could quite forget if he
would? Aye,-who would quite forget Il
! he could?