Bertha's Christmas Vision: 20 Holiday Stories. Alger Horatio Jr.

we bade farewell to joy;

      For our hearts were bound by a sorrowful tie

      To the grave of the little boy.

      The birds still sing in the leafy tree

      That shadows the open door:

      We heed them not; for we think of the voice

      That we shall hear no more.

      We think of him at eventide,

      And gaze on his vacant chair

      With a longing heart, that will scarce believe

      That Charlie is not there.

      We seem to hear his ringing laugh,

      And his bounding step at the door;

      But, alas! there comes the sorrowful thought—

      We shall never hear them more!

      We shall walk sometimes to his little grave,

      In the pleasant summer hours;

      We will speak his name in a softened voice,

      And cover his grave with flowers;

      We will think of him in his heavenly home—

      His heavenly home so fair;

      And we will trust with a hopeful trust

      That we shall meet him there.