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Show - CHILDREN. The sleeping echoes of her quiet room . ' I Are never waked bj- bursts, of childish-glee, . ' And up-the polished staircase never' come Light patterings. o footsteps swift and free, Alone she sits and In the twilight gloom ' Dreams happily of what shall never be! Sometimes her wistful fancy strews the floor " . (Rich carpeted and neat) with broken toys; 1 - , -. - - ..- Paints finger prints. on window glass and door,- i ' - '.-Hears echoes of shrill laughter and rude noise; , Ail that a tired mother might deplore - - . - Would seem to her starved heart as priceless joys! Till, from the world without, some suddon note Of childish voices through her vision rings,' And sobs of anguish rise to-her white throat, Round which no dimpled arm In mischief clings; Gone are the sweet dream-fancies, as, may float ' From earth to heaven the flash of angel wings. , And yet, rio little empty crib Is there -' To mock the mother arms, outstretched in vain, She hoards no shining tress of silken hair, - No tiny grave where buried hopes lie slain; Only the deeper loss she has to bear Upon whose heart no babe of hers has lain. |