SYMPATHY

To-night a 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 weeps

These lonely watches through

So wakefully my spirit keeps

A weary vigil, too.

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.

Ah me! there breaks the dawning sun,

In golden light serene;

Yet still I mourn this little one,

Whom I have never seen!