His Parting

    Crept noiseless down the shore,
And even the brook seemed for his sake
    Less boisterous than before.

The sunbeams never blinked their eyes,
     Quite still were light and shade,

While here and there the droning flies
    A solemn music made.

’Twas plain his woodland friends had heard,
     And nature all around
Mourned, as when some sweet singing bird

    Has fallen to the ground.

But he, our little dying boy,
     Forgetting all his pain,
Passed prattling by in childish joy
    And never came again. [Page 30]