Poems (Eytinge)/A silent house
A SILENT HOUSE.
How oft I stilled the noisy chatter,
How often hushed the childish patter,
And wished that song and play would cease,
And prayed for just one moment's peace!
The broken toys I cast aside,
With angry word a fault would chide;
But now that great Eternity
Doth separate my child from me.
I walk about from room to room,
And shudder when the gathering gloom
Brings silence and a dull despair,
And memories of golden hair,
And rosy lips and laughing eyes,
With all the joy that in them lies;
And when I kneel at close of day,
I clasp my hands and humbly pray—
"Oh, God! that I may be forgiven,
And meet my little child in Heaven!"
How often hushed the childish patter,
And wished that song and play would cease,
And prayed for just one moment's peace!
The broken toys I cast aside,
With angry word a fault would chide;
But now that great Eternity
Doth separate my child from me.
I walk about from room to room,
And shudder when the gathering gloom
Brings silence and a dull despair,
And memories of golden hair,
And rosy lips and laughing eyes,
With all the joy that in them lies;
And when I kneel at close of day,
I clasp my hands and humbly pray—
"Oh, God! that I may be forgiven,
And meet my little child in Heaven!"