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.