The Infant's Grave

Dark and gloomy is the night,Not a star rays forth its light;But no light I need to showWhere my little one's laid low:Blindfold I can thread my way—Tears may blind but do not stay:Straight as arrow from a bowTo thy resting-place I go.

Little angel pure as lightFrom the farthest star of night!Only treasure of my heart,Sole joy in which I claimed a part!Darling whose bright presence madeAll my care and sorrow fade,And in a web of gloom enwroughtThreads of bright and happy thought!

Of all other comforts reftThou alone to me wert left;Joy was mine embracing thee,Thou wert all in all to me!

He whom once I loved so wellLured away by evil spell—With naught else to fill my heartI lived in thee—and dead thou art!

Tyrant death! amidst thou not spareA flower so young, so sweet, so fair?If thou needs must take one, whyFor her sake might I not die?Then some mercy hadst thou shewn,Nor left me desolate, alone,A childless mother, homeless wife,To linger out a death-in-life.

Reft of all that gives delightDay's as wearisome as night;Earth's a barren desert drear,With no Mount of Promise near;Hope's by dull despair devoured,All joy's slain, all sweetness soured;Where'er I turn I see aloneA frowning sky, a face of stone.

Night so dark can have no dawn;I'll follow thee where thou art gone;1 cannot linger in this drear,Homeless, hopeless, evil sphere:Calls my darling, Come away!Broken heart, your beating stay!Merciless you struck before,Death! in mercy strike once more!