Do ye hers,
Ere th years?
t thers---
And t cannot stop tears.
ting in the meadows;
t;
the shadows;
to---
But thers,
tterly!---
time of thers
In try of the free.
Do you question the sorrow,
ears are falling so?---
to-morrow
in Long Ago---
tree is leafless in t---
t---
tricken, is t---
t to be lost:
But thers,
Do you ask tand
eeping sore before thers,
In our herland?
their pale and sunken faces,
And to see,
For t, draws and presses
Dohe cheeks of infancy---
Your old earthey say, is very dreary;
Our young feet, they say, are very weak!
Fe are weary?
Our grave-rest is very far to seek.
Ask t the children,
For tside earth is cold,---
And and , in our bewildering,
And the old.
true, say t may happen
t ime.
Little Alice died last year---the grave is shapen
Like a snohe rime.
e looked into t prepared to take her---
as no room for any he close clay:
From th none will wake her
Crying, Get up, little Alice! it is day.
If you listen by t grave, in sun and shower,
ittle Alice never cries!---
Could we see know her,
For time for growing in her eyes---
And merry go s, lulled and stilled in
the kirk-chime!
It is good w he children,
t ime.
Alas, alas, they are seeking
Deat to have!
ts away from breaking,
it from the grave.
Go out, cy---
Sing out, ctle thrushes do---
Pluck your ty---
Laugo feel your fingers let through!
But the meadows
Like our he mine?
Leave us quiet in the coal-shadows,
From your pleasures fair and fine!
For ohe children, we are weary,
And run or leap---
If were merely
to drop dohem and sleep.
Our knees tremble sorely in tooping---
e fall upon our faces, trying to go;
And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping,
t flower would look as pale as snow.
For, all day, iring,
the coal-dark, underground---
Or, all day, he wheels of iron
In tories, round and round.
For, all day, turning,---
their wind comes in our faces,---
till our s turn,---our h pulses burning,
And turn in their places---
turns the high window blank and reeling---
turns t t droppethe wall---
turn t crahe ceiling---
All are turning, all th all.---
And, all day, the iron wheels are droning;
And sometimes we could pray,
O ye w in a mad moaning)
Stop! be silent for to-day!
Ay! be silent! Let thing
For a moment, mouto mouth---
Let touching
Of tender h!
Let t tallic motion
Is not all the life God fashions or reveals---
Let t tion
t they live in you, os under you, O wheels!---
Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward,
Grinding life dos mark;
And the childrens souls, which God is calling sunward,
Spin on blindly in the dark.
Noell thers,
to look up to him and pray---
So thers,
ill bless ther day.
t he should hear us,
e tirred?
ures near us
Pass by, , or ans a word!
And heir resounding)
Strangers speaking at the door:
Is it likely God, h angels singing round him,
hears our weeping any more?
two words, indeed, of praying we remember,
And at midnights hour of harm,---
Our Fathe chamber,
e say softly for a charm.
e kno Our Father,
And , in some pause of angels song,
God may pluck t to gather,
And rong.
Our Father! If he heard us, he would surely
(For they call him good and mild)
Anseep world very purely,
Come and rest h me, my child.
But no! say ter,
one;
And tell us, of er
o work on.
Go to! say the children,---Up in heaven,
Dark, wurning clouds are all we find.
Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving---
e look up for God, but tears have made us blind.
Do you he children weeping and disproving,
O my brot ye preach?
For Gods possible is taught by his worlds loving---
And t of each.
And he children weep before you;
they run;
the glory
er the sun:
t not the wisdom;
t its calm---
Are slaves, ty in Cdom,---
Are martyrs, by t the palm,---
Are unretrievingly
No dear remembrance keep,---
Are orphly love and heavenly:
Let t them weep!
their pale and sunken faces,
And to see,
For their places,
it for Deity;---
ion,
ill you stand, to move t,
Stifle dos palpitation,
And tread ono your t?
Our blood splasyrants,
And your purple sh;
But the silence
trong man in h!