Poems (Odom)/Little Relics

LITTLE RELICS.
Only a baby's picture,
With dimpled shoulders bare;
Large blue eyes softly beaming,
And rings of golden hair.

Only a faded relic,
All wrinkled, soiled, and torn;
'T is but a tiny stocking
My little girl had worn.

Only a knot of ribbon,
More precious far than pearls;
It slipped, just as you see it,
One evening from her curls.

Only her broken playthings,—
Little dishes and her doll,
Her pretty cups of silver,—
You see I keep them all.

Only a little slipper
That my pretty darling wore
The first time that she tottered
Across the chamber floor.

Why do I keep and love them,
When so many years have fled?
Don't you know? They were my baby's,
And the little one is dead.