Poems (Toke)/The broken flower
E must not mourn for thee, my broken flower! Purer and dearer than earth's fairest bloom,Nor weep to think, how brief thy fleeting hour Of hope and joy,—a cradle and a tomb. Ah no! for ere one shade of faintest gloomHad dimmed the light of young love's cloudless day,The darkness came; our darling passed away, And we are left to mourn her early doom.But not with bitter tears; for far above All earthly hopes, around the Cross, had twinedHer helpless heart, in trustfulness and love; And now, all sin and sorrow left behind,Safe on her Saviour's breast, she waits to seeHer loved ones come. Oh, Darling! who could weep for thee?
THE BROKEN FLOWER.
CHART CHURCH, AUGUST 13, 1865.
E must not mourn for thee, my broken flower! Purer and dearer than earth's fairest bloom,Nor weep to think, how brief thy fleeting hour Of hope and joy,—a cradle and a tomb. Ah no! for ere one shade of faintest gloomHad dimmed the light of young love's cloudless day,The darkness came; our darling passed away, And we are left to mourn her early doom.But not with bitter tears; for far above All earthly hopes, around the Cross, had twinedHer helpless heart, in trustfulness and love; And now, all sin and sorrow left behind,Safe on her Saviour's breast, she waits to seeHer loved ones come. Oh, Darling! who could weep for thee?E.