Bessie (1871 version)

                              I.
She lay before me in her little shroud,
     Her pale hands softly folded on her breast, 
     As if, o'erwearied, she had sunk to rest 
To dream of Heaven, and of the radiant crowd 
     That tread its golden pavements. Not a trace 
     Of dying anguish lingered on her face;
But round her lips a sweetly serious smile
     Still seemed to play—a token from the LORD, 
     Of bliss upon her sinless spirit poured.
Then came a thought of Him who blessed, erewhile, 
     Young children—"Suffer them to come to me!"
Still thrilled that heavenly voice upon my ear, 
And my heart answered, as I dropped a tear, 
     THY will be done!—we leave our child with THEE!

                              II.
As fragrant as the summer flowers
     With the June sunshine in their heart,
Was the young life, entwined with ours, 
     And seeming of our souls a part.

No tenderer joy could mortals know
     Than that with which we hailed her birth;
No sadder sacrament of woe,
     When pale lips faltered "Earth to earth!"

The sunlight in her golden hair,
     The love-light in her laughing eye —
We had no thought that aught so fair 
     Could in its dawning beauty die.

And as we marked each budding grace
     Unfolding sweetly, day by day, 
In added charms of form and face,
     We dreamed not of their swift decay.

But said, "This child, so lovely now, 
     Will be yet lovelier in our sight!"
And Hope wove garlands for her brow, 
     And crowned her queen of all delight.

Ah, mournful change! the life so full 
     Of promise from our gaze has fled,
And earth is dark and drear and dull, 
     Since she who made our joy is dead.

Dead! ere her third brief summer's close: Dead! 
     while its flowers by thousands bloom;
And every gentle wind that blows 
     Scatters their petals o'er her tomb!

Vainly we wait to hear once more 
     The bird-like music of her voice;
Her light step, dancing o'er the floor, 
     That made our very hearts rejoice;

Vainly, to catch her joyous smile,
     The bright gleam of her sunny hair;
The happy light that shone, erewhile, 
     In eyes that blessed us unaware;

Vainly, to feel her white arms twine 
     Around us with their loving stress,
And kisses from her infantine
     Sweet lips on ours, like roses, press.

O, heavy grief! whose palsying touch 
     Shatters the hopes that seemed so fair!
O, hungry grave! that claims so much 
     Of love's best treasures, sweet and rare!

Alas! our tears have made us blind,
     And so amid the dark we grope, 
While God is infinitely kind,
     And blesses us beyond our hope.

Look up, sad heart, for lo, the child
     So loved, so mourned, has found her rest!
A spirit pure and undefiled,
     Safe sheltered on the Father's breast!