Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1872-06-18
POETRY.
The Boy and his Angel.

| Oh, mother, I've been with an angel to-day,
l was out all alone in the forest to play,
| Chasing the butterflies, watching the bees,
and hearing the woodpeck:ee1r :e1 tapping the trees
| sat down to rest in the shade of yew !,
| While the birds sang so sweetly, high up IN the
top,
I held my breath, mother, for fear they would
| stop.
Thus a long while sat looking up to the sky,
And watching the clouds that went hurrying by
When I heard voice calling, just over my
head,
That sounded as if "Come, Oh brother p it said
And there right up over the top of the tree,
| On mother, an angel was beck ming to me.
And, brother, once more, come, Oh brother"
| he cried
And few on light pinions close down by my
| And mother, Oh, never was being so light,
AS the one which then beamed on my wondering
sight
His face was as fair as the delicate she'll,
His hair down his shoulders in fair rnglets fell,
| While his eyes resting on me so melting with
love-
| Were as soft and as mild as the eyes of dove
And somehow, dear mother, felt not afraid,
AS his hand on my own he caressingly laid,
And whispering so softly and so gently to me,
Come brother, the angels are waiting for theeP'
And then on my forehead he tenderly pressed
Such kisses, Oh mother, they thrilled through
my breast
AS swiftly as lightning leaps down from on high
When the chariot of God rolls along the black
whisy fityI; his breath floating round me was soft as
That played in my tresses and rustled the trees.
At last on my head deep blessing he poured,
Then plumed his bright pinions, upwards he
scared;
And up, he went through the blue sky SO far,
He seemed to float there like glittering star
ct still my eyes followed his radiant fight
Till lost in the azure he passed from my sight.
Then, Oh how feared as caught the last CLEAN
Of his vanishing FORM it was only q dream
When soft voices whispered once more from the
tree,
Come, brother, the angels are waiting for theel"
Oh pale grew the mother and heavy her heart,
For she knew her fair boy from this world must
That his bright locks must fade in the dust of
the tomb,
Ere tn autumn winds withered the summers
rich bloom.
Oh how his young footsteps she watch day by
AS his delicate form wasted slowly away,
Till the soft light of Heaven seemed shed Yer
his face
And he crept up to die in her loving embrace.
'Oh, clasp me. dear mother, close, close to your
On that gentle pillow again let me rest.
Let me gaze up once more to that dear loving
And then Oh, me thinks, can willingly die.
Now kiss me, dear mother Oh quickly, for
see
The bright blessed angels are waiting for me
Oh wild was the anguish that swept through her
breast
AS the long frantic kiss on his pale lips she
pressed,
And felt the vain search of his soft pleading eye
As it strove to meet hers ere the fair boy should
die,
II see you not, dear mother, for darkness and
night
Are hiding your dear loving face from my sight,
But hear your low sobbings,-dea mother,
good bye,
The angels are ready to bear me on high!
[ will wait for you there,-but Oh, tarry not
long.
Lest grief at your absence should sadden my
song"
He ceased, with his hands meekly clasped on his
breast
And his sweet face sunk down on its pillow of
rest;
Then closed his eyes, now all rayless and dim,
Went up with the angels that waited for him.