Letitia Elizabeth Landon

 

The Little Shroud

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

She put him on a snow-white shroud,
A chaplet on his head;
And gathered early primroses
To scatter o'er the dead.

She laid him in his little grave --
'Twas hard to lay him there,
When spring was putting forth its flowers,
And everything was fair.

She had lost many children -- now
The last of them was gone;
And day and night she sat and wept
Beside the funeral stone.

One midnight, while her constant tears
Were falling with the dew
She heard a voice, and lo! her child
Stood by her weeping too!

His shroud was damp, his face was white,
He said, -- I cannot sleep,
Your tears have made my shroud so wet,
O, mother, do not weep!

O, love is strong! -- the mother's heart
Was filled with tender fears;
O, love is strong! and for her child
Her grief restrained its tears.

One eve a light shone round her bed,
And there she saw him stand --
Her infant in his little shroud,
A taper in his hand.

Lo! mother, see my shroud is dry,
And I can sleep once more!

And beautiful the parting smile
The little infant wore.

And flown within the silent grave
He laid his weary head;
And soon the early violets
Grew o'er his grassy bed.

The mother went her household ways --
Again she knelt in prayer,
And only asked of Heaven its aid
Her heavy lot to bear.

Source:

The Poetical Works Of Miss Landon
Copyright 1853
Phillips, Sampson, And Co.
110 Washington Street
Boston
 
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