  From out a bundle in the old red chest I found some baby-clothes that called the tears. They brought so many precious memories forth, Sweet, precious memories of by-gone years. A little shirt so tiny that the sleeves Would always seem to, laughing, whisper low, “We were the first you made: we did not grow In length nor breadth; and when the baby grew We were laid by to serve a baby new.” That little shirt! The tiny hem-stitched front Covered the little heart whose fluttering beat Was like a captive bird; nor did I know The years would come, years sorrowful and sweet, When I, in pain, my weary head would rest Against that heart, and on those arms so blest. O little sleeves! the arms you circled then, I kissed and dressed; they dress me now. Again The old-time tenderness comes o’er me with a thrill She is the stronger; yet my darling still. O little shirt, too worn to give away; Too dear to waste; still with my keepsakes stay, With the wee stockings and the short pink dress, Hid in the bundle, still my heart to bless, By bringing back the rainbow baby days These little clothes bring back the time to me When, full of wonder and of hope, I thought The coming treasure, that pure gift of God For which, in prayer, my earnest heart had sought, Would cheer me with a joy that only shines In mother-hearts, where Love’s most costly mines Are thrown wide open to be gathered free For baby lips and baby eyes to see. Yes, I remember all, dear little clothes, You’ve roused a thousand memories from repose; And like the sweetest music of the past, You breathe a song that must forever last. A song re-echoed ever here below; A song to follow me when I shall go To that glad Home where parting is no more, And greet my children on the fadeless shore. endpaper divider |
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