Caleb in the Country by Jacob Abbott (e ink epub reader .txt) 📖

watching the children all the time.

The next morning, Mary Anna tore off the netting, and the squirrel lived in the tree a long while. Caleb, however, saw but little more of him at this time, for he went to Boston the next week with his father. What befell him there may perhaps be described in another book, to be called "CALEB IN TOWN."


END OF CALEB IN THE COUNTRY.


POETRY.

PASSING AWAY.


Mothers! where are they?--where?
They are gone from this passing scene,
Gone with the dreams of joy that were,
As if they ne'er had been.
Husbands! where are they?--where?
The visions of life are fled;
But they live--beneath--above--in air,
For spirits can ne'er be dead.

Children! where are they?--where?
Will the sun or stars reply?
Nor earth, nor sea, nor air,
Will answer to the cry.
Return they not with the early morn?
Where are the lost ones? say--
Gone to a land whence none return,
But where ,--Oh, where are they?

Dear ones! where are they?--where?
They are gone from the village home;
We ponder and gaze on the empty chair,
And recall the voice's tone.
Loved ones! where are they?--where?
We stand by the vacant bed,
On the spot where we breathed the prayer,
When we raised the dying head.

The friends! where are they?--where?
Their spirits have left the clay;
Are they gone to weep in black despair,
Or to sing in eternal day?
Where are they? Oh tell us where!
That our aching hearts may rest;
Do they breathe the rich man's prayer,
Or are they among the blest?

Lost ones! where are they?--where?
We ask--but we ask in vain;
The sound goes round on the waves of air,
And echo says, "Where?" Again--
Where are they?--where?


WEEP NOT FOR ME.


Weep not, my child, weep not for me ,
Though heavy is the stroke,
And thou must early learn indeed
To bear affliction's yoke.
Yet weep not, for you all have heard,
Oft from these lips, in health,
How Death will often snatch away
Mothers by mystic stealth.
How often, when within the home
The sun of joy doth glow,
Some deed of his insidious hand
Will fill that home with woe.

But when thy mother far has soared
To regions all divine,
A livelier voice, my precious one,
Shall speak to thee, than mine.
Weep not for me--all tears remove--
I die without a fear;
My God, to whom you are assigned,
Your early prayers shall hear.
When twilight opes the dappled morn,
And clothes the east in grey,
When sunbeams deck the west at eve,
Oh then, beloved one--PRAY.

* * * * *

Milner & Sowerby, Printers, Halifax. Imprint

Publication Date: 05-04-2008

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