those tiny fingers haunt me still;
In the silent night, when the moons pale ray,
Silvers the leaves on the window sill.
Just between sleeping and waking I lie,
Makebelieve feeling their velvet touch,
Darling! My darling! Oh, why should you die!
Leaving me lonely, who loved so much?

Those tiny fingers that used to stray
Over my face which is wrinkled now;
Those little white hands--how they used to play,
With the wanton curls round my once fair brow.
Thy soft blue eyes and thy dimpled cheeks,
I seem to see now as I saw them then;
And a whispering voice to my sad heart speaks,--
'Thou shalt meet her again,'--but when? oh, when?

Deep in the grave was the coffin laid,
And buried with it was my purest love;
Oh, how I'd hoped, and watched, and prayed,
That Death would pass by and spare my dove,
Was it in mercy God took thee hence?
Was it because I had worshipped thee so?
Was my devotion to thee an offence?
I was thy mother,--and God must know.

If it were sinful, my tears have atoned;
At last I can murmur, "Thy will be done,"
Sweet little cherub, to me but loaned,
Now safe at home, far beyond the sun.
Soon the dark river I too shall cross,
And hopefully climb up that golden stair,
And all this world's riches will be but dross,
If those tiny fingers beckon me there.

Lilly-White Hand.

Place thy lilly-white hand in mine,
Maid with the wealth of golden hair;--
Tresses, that gleaming like gold, entwine,
Round about a sweet face so fair.

Sweetheart, oh! whisper once more the words,
That came from those coral lips of thine,
And bound thee to me by those silken cords,--
And place thy lilly-white hand in mine,

Place thy lilly-white hand in mine,
That its gentle pressure may tell my heart
That the idol round which I had reared a shrine,
Is mine,--mine,--never from me to part.

Sweetest and fairest of woman kind!
Gentlest, kindest, lovingest, best,--
Virtues with beauties are so combined,
That manhood pays homage at love's behest.

Place thy lilly-white hand in mine,
Let its velvet touch on my horny palm,
Comfort, encourage, embolden, refine,--
This grosser clay, by its subtle charm.

Long as life lasts let me clasp thy hand,
As a pledge of our oneness, existing now;
And when I depart for the better land,
Let it rest for a while on my death-cold brow.

Falsehood, treachery, sickness, pain,--
I have endured, yet h