The Sisters: a Picture by Barry

The shade for me, but over thee

The lingering sunshine still;

As, smiling, to the silent stream

Comes down the singing rill.

So come to me, my little one,—

My years with thee I share,

And mingle with a sister’s love

A mother’s tender care.

But keep the smile upon thy lip,

The trust upon thy brow;

Since for the dear one God hath called

We have an angel now.

Our mother from the fields of heaven

Shall still her ear incline;

Nor need we fear her human love

Is less for love divine.

The songs are sweet they sing beneath

The trees of life so fair,

But sweetest of the songs of heaven

Shall be her children’s prayer.

Then, darling, rest upon my breast,

And teach my heart to lean

With thy sweet trust upon the arm

Which folds us both unseen!