SYMPATHY
To-nighta little child lies dead;I never saw its face;I try to fancy now insteadIts lines of baby grace.And for the sake of her who weepsThese lonely watches throughSo wakefully my spirit keepsA weary vigil, too.A thousand thoughts appeal to meIn close-besieging crowd;But through them all I only seeA little, snow-white shroud.Nor may I set dull grief at naught,However I am fain;Since when the heart-strings are distraught,The will must strive in vain.Ah me! there breaks the dawning sun,In golden light serene;Yet still I mourn this little one,Whom I have never seen!
To-nighta little child lies dead;I never saw its face;I try to fancy now insteadIts lines of baby grace.And for the sake of her who weepsThese lonely watches throughSo wakefully my spirit keepsA weary vigil, too.A thousand thoughts appeal to meIn close-besieging crowd;But through them all I only seeA little, snow-white shroud.Nor may I set dull grief at naught,However I am fain;Since when the heart-strings are distraught,The will must strive in vain.Ah me! there breaks the dawning sun,In golden light serene;Yet still I mourn this little one,Whom I have never seen!
To-nighta little child lies dead;I never saw its face;I try to fancy now insteadIts lines of baby grace.
To-nighta little child lies dead;
I never saw its face;
I try to fancy now instead
Its lines of baby grace.
And for the sake of her who weepsThese lonely watches throughSo wakefully my spirit keepsA weary vigil, too.
And for the sake of her who weeps
These lonely watches through
So wakefully my spirit keeps
A weary vigil, too.
A thousand thoughts appeal to meIn close-besieging crowd;But through them all I only seeA little, snow-white shroud.
A thousand thoughts appeal to me
In close-besieging crowd;
But through them all I only see
A little, snow-white shroud.
Nor may I set dull grief at naught,However I am fain;Since when the heart-strings are distraught,The will must strive in vain.
Nor may I set dull grief at naught,
However I am fain;
Since when the heart-strings are distraught,
The will must strive in vain.
Ah me! there breaks the dawning sun,In golden light serene;Yet still I mourn this little one,Whom I have never seen!
Ah me! there breaks the dawning sun,
In golden light serene;
Yet still I mourn this little one,
Whom I have never seen!