From the LEDGER of the same date I make the following extract,
merely changing the surname, as before:
Becket.--On Sunday morning, 19th inst., John P., infant son
of George and Julia Becket, aged 1 year, 6 months, and 15 days.
That merry shout no more I hear,
No laughing child I see,
No little arms are round my neck,
No feet upon my knee;
No kisses drop upon my cheek;
These lips are sealed to me.
Dear Lord, how could I give Johnnie up
To any but to Thee?
The similarity of the emotions as produced in the mourners in these
two instances is remarkably evidenced by the singular similarity
of thought which they experienced, and the surprising coincidence
of language used by them to give it expression.
In the same journal, of the same date, I find the following
(surname suppressed, as before):
Wagner.--On the 10th inst., Ferguson G., the son of William
L. and Martha Theresa Wagner, aged 4 weeks and 1 day.
That merry shout no more I hear,
No laughing child I see,
No little arms are round my neck,
No feet upon my knee;
No kisses drop upon my cheek,
These lips are sealed to me.
Dear Lord, how could I give Ferguson up
To any but to Thee?
It is strange what power the reiteration of an essentially poetical
thought has upon one's feelings. When we take up the LEDGER
and read the poetry about little Clara, we feel an unaccountable
depression of the spirits.
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