HARLIE

Fold the little waxen hands

Lightly. Let your warmest tears

Speak regrets, but never fears,—

Heaven understands!

Let the sad heart, o'er the tomb,

Lift again and burst in bloom

Fragrant with a prayer as sweet

As the lily at your feet.

Bend and kiss the folded eyes —

They are only feigning sleep

While their truant glances peep

Into Paradise.

See, the face, though cold and white,

Holds a hint of some delight

E'en with Death, whose finger-tips

Rest upon the frozen lips.

When, within the years to come,

Vanished echoes live once more —

Pattering footsteps on the floor,

And the sounds of home,—

Let your arms in fancy fold

Little Harlie as of old —

As of old and as he waits

At the City's golden gates.