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Poem
February 15, 1872
White Cloud Kansas Chief
White Cloud, Doniphan County, Kansas
What is this article about?
A father's poignant elegy mourning the death of his young son, recalling joyful evenings at home and expressing hope for a heavenly reunion where the child's voice will welcome him again.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
One bright and happy summer time,
When birds and blossoms filled the bowers,
A weary at the day's decline
I sought my home to spend the hours,
Two little feet would pattering run.
A silvery voice shout, "Papa's come."
Blithe as a bird, our darling boy
Would gather pleasure all day long
From flower, or leaf, or simple toy.
Or humming whilst his mimic song.
At eve the joyful feet would run,
The gladsome voice shout "Papa's come."
But when the autumn-time drew on.
And frost the trees in gold had drest,
Our little flower, alas! was gone,
By frost of death too rudely prest
And ceased the pattering feet to run.
The gleeful shout of "Papa's come."
The little limbs are resting now.
The sunny head, too, is at rest,
And mother earth with placid brow
The little form folds on her breast
No more the blitheome feet shall run
The silvery voice shout, "Papa's come"
But when the day of life is o'er
And weary with its toil and strife.
Oh tell me! when at Heaven's door
I seek the rest of endless life,
Shall not I hear the welcome sound,
The joyful shout of "Papa's come!"
When birds and blossoms filled the bowers,
A weary at the day's decline
I sought my home to spend the hours,
Two little feet would pattering run.
A silvery voice shout, "Papa's come."
Blithe as a bird, our darling boy
Would gather pleasure all day long
From flower, or leaf, or simple toy.
Or humming whilst his mimic song.
At eve the joyful feet would run,
The gladsome voice shout "Papa's come."
But when the autumn-time drew on.
And frost the trees in gold had drest,
Our little flower, alas! was gone,
By frost of death too rudely prest
And ceased the pattering feet to run.
The gleeful shout of "Papa's come."
The little limbs are resting now.
The sunny head, too, is at rest,
And mother earth with placid brow
The little form folds on her breast
No more the blitheome feet shall run
The silvery voice shout, "Papa's come"
But when the day of life is o'er
And weary with its toil and strife.
Oh tell me! when at Heaven's door
I seek the rest of endless life,
Shall not I hear the welcome sound,
The joyful shout of "Papa's come!"
What sub-type of article is it?
Elegy
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Religious Faith
What keywords are associated?
Child Death
Father Grief
Heavenly Reunion
Family Loss
Mourning Poem
Poem Details
Subject
Lament For A Deceased Child
Key Lines
Two Little Feet Would Pattering Run.
A Silvery Voice Shout, "Papa's Come."
Our Little Flower, Alas! Was Gone,
By Frost Of Death Too Rudely Prest
Shall Not I Hear The Welcome Sound,
The Joyful Shout Of "Papa's Come!"