The shade for me, but over thee The lingering sunshine still; As, smiling, to the silent stream Comes down the singing rill. So come to me, my little one,— My years with thee I share, And mingle with a sister's love A mother's tender care. But keep the smile upon thy lip, The trust upon thy brow; Since for the dear one God hath called We have an angel now. Our mother from the fields of heaven Shall still her ear incline; Nor need we fear her human love Is less for love divine. The songs are sweet they sing beneath The trees of life so fair, But sweetest of the songs of heaven Shall be her children's prayer. Then, darling, rest upon my breast, And teach my heart to lean With thy sweet trust upon the arm Which folds us both unseen! 1858
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