)
If I can find some anxious maid
Who all these charms possesses,
I shall be tempted, I'm afraid,
To pay her my addresses.
Waiting at the Gate.
Draw closer to my side to-night,
Dear wife, give me thy hand,
My heart is sad with memories
Which thou canst understand,
Its twenty years this very day,
I know thou minds it well,
Since o'er our happy wedded life
The heaviest trouble fell.
We stood beside the little cot,
But not a word we said;
With breaking hearts we learned, alas,
Our little Claude was dead,
He was the last child born to us,
The loveliest,--the best,
I sometimes fear we loved him more
Than any of the rest.
We tried to say "Thy will be done,"
We strove to be resigned;
But all in vain, our loss had left
Too deep a wound behind.
I saw the tears roll down thy cheek,
And shared thy misery,
But could not speak a soothing word,
I could but grieve with thee.
He looked so calm, so sweet, so fair
Why should we stand and weep?
Death had but paused a moment there,
And put our pet to sleep.
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