ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.

Sweet Josephine, thou hast left this drear abode,

To be an angel with thy Father, God!

There, in sweet strains, thy little lisping tongue

Will chant the praises angels never sung.

Farewell, dear babe! A last, a long farewell,

Till we in heaven with thee shall ever dwell.

[Illustration]

Christmas offering · 第 22 / 25 题