Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Little Minnie

Little Minnie.

Art thou weary, little Minnie?
Lay thy head upon my knee:
It makes the old man's heart rejoice
Thy sunny face to see.
Well may the aged falter,
Who tread life's rugged way,
When even little Minnie
Grows weary of her play.

Tell thee a story, Minnie?
Nay, I am growing old,
And all the stories of my youth
Long since to thee were told.
But if thou'lt listen, darling,
There is something I would say,
That you may oft remember
When I have passed away.

Minnie! my sweetest thought for years,
That's cheered me many a day,
Is the memory of the mother
Who taught me first to pray.
Minnie! do you remember
Your gentle mother too,
Whose only grief in dying
Was the thought of leaving you?

Ah, child! I mind me of the time—
A tiny babe wert thou—
When the pure baptismal water
Was sprinkled on thy brow.
Thy mother gave me one pet lamb
One of Christ's flock to be:
Now in the fields of Paradise,
She waiteth there for thee.

Ah, Minnie! little Minnie!
When at the close of day
You kneel beside your little bed
Your evening prayer to say;
Then pray to God to aid thee
To keep thy mother's vow,
That sin's dark shadow may not rest
Upon thy fair young brow.

"Remember thy Creator!"
These words were kindly given,
Even as a Father's hand, that leads
His little ones to heaven.
Ah, Minnie! closely hold His hand
As through life's path you roam:
Though rough and stormy be the way,
'Twill safely lead you home.

And when they lay me by her side,
In the peaceful churchyard there,
And you sometimes gaze with tearful eyes
Upon this vacant chair,
These words, perchance, your lonely heart
Will soothe 'mid grief and pain;
Think darling we who loved you here
Will meet with you again.

Good-night, my little Minnie!
You're weary now, I know;—
Yes, twine your arms around me,
And kiss me ere you go;
Then hie thee to thy chamber—-
Another day is gone;
Good-night, my precious Minnie!
God bless thee, little one!