44. ON THE DEATH OF MY DAUGHTER.(notes)Poor man, who name of Father dost not know,Nor e'er hast felt that bond of sweetest might,Which binds thee to thy child; on whose glad sightThat fairest image on the earth below,—In beauty like heav'n's various-tinted bow,—Her Mother's picture, lovely daughter brightNe'er shone;—thou hast not seen joy's earthly height!—All this I've seen, and lost to my huge woe!And yet I do not need thy pity, friend;For though the flow'r of seventeen summers' bloomWas smitten, still it blossoms without endIn garden, where ne'er falls a blighting doom.A ransom'd sinner did my Daughter die,In Christian hope, with glory in her eye!
44. ON THE DEATH OF MY DAUGHTER.(notes)
Poor man, who name of Father dost not know,Nor e'er hast felt that bond of sweetest might,Which binds thee to thy child; on whose glad sightThat fairest image on the earth below,—In beauty like heav'n's various-tinted bow,—Her Mother's picture, lovely daughter brightNe'er shone;—thou hast not seen joy's earthly height!—All this I've seen, and lost to my huge woe!And yet I do not need thy pity, friend;For though the flow'r of seventeen summers' bloomWas smitten, still it blossoms without endIn garden, where ne'er falls a blighting doom.A ransom'd sinner did my Daughter die,In Christian hope, with glory in her eye!
Poor man, who name of Father dost not know,
Nor e'er hast felt that bond of sweetest might,
Which binds thee to thy child; on whose glad sight
That fairest image on the earth below,—
In beauty like heav'n's various-tinted bow,—
Her Mother's picture, lovely daughter bright
Ne'er shone;—thou hast not seen joy's earthly height!—
All this I've seen, and lost to my huge woe!
And yet I do not need thy pity, friend;
For though the flow'r of seventeen summers' bloom
Was smitten, still it blossoms without end
In garden, where ne'er falls a blighting doom.
A ransom'd sinner did my Daughter die,
In Christian hope, with glory in her eye!