"
BABY IS DEAD.
"BABY is dead!" How many hearts have throbbed with anguish, and eyes
overflowed with tears at the utterance of these thrilling words! A
tender bud is intrusted to a rejoicing family. Very precious does it
become to them. With what ecstatic joy do they note the first dawn
of intelligence as it beams from the starry eyes! How merry their
own hearts now, as they listen to the shouts of childish glee as
they burst from the coral lips! Ay, very, very dear is this little
one, and their cup of bliss seems full without alloy; when suddenly
the relentless destroyer enters their happy home, and sets his seal
on that snowy brow, so like a lily's leaf, in its pure beauty.
Disease fastens itself upon the loved one, and, like a tender bud
nipped by the untimely frost, it withers, droops, and dies. Then
come the fearful words, "Baby is dead!" With what a crushing weight
do they fall on the ears of that mourning family! How reluctantly do
their bruised hearts acknowledge the sad truth! But stern reality
avers it so, and the spectre Grief claims them for its own, as they
gaze upon the pale face of the little sleeper.
Ah! the light of those bright eyes is for ever quenched, and the
lids are closed tranquilly over them; the rose tint has fled from
the round cheeks; the ruby lips are colourless, and the youthful
heart has ceased its throbbings.
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