Death Of Little Cora
OUR dear little Cora
in silence is sleeping,
In yon quiet grave-yard,
so lonely and deep;
Though we for our darling
in sadness are weeping,
We know that we cannot awake
her from sleep.
She was gentle and pure
as the zephyrs that meet us,
On a bright May morning,
perfumed by the flowers,
And sweet as the roses,
which everywhere greet us,
That blossom in beauty
amid the green bowers.
Yes, she was our idol,
how dearly we loved her,
How little we thought
while she sat by our side,
That ere the Spring came
with its beauty and splendor,
Our darling so soon
would have sickened and died?
0 lonely indeed,
and sad was the morning,
When they from our home
our little one bore,
How cheerless our home
when we found on returning,
That our darling had gone
to return never more.
But she now sweetly sleeps,
free from trouble and sorrow;
May bright holy angels
watch over her bed,
And keep in remembrance
our dear little Cora,
Till the last trump shall sound
to awaken the dead.
0 then may we meet her,
the innocent-hearted,
Forever to dwell
in that bright happy home.
No fears will we have
of again being parted,
For in that healthful clime
pain and death never come.
M. M. S.