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James Whitcomb Riley - Harlie
Work rating: Low

Fold the little waxen hands
Lightly.  Let your warmest tears
Speak regrets, but never fears,--
    Heaven understands!
Let the sad heart, o`er the tomb,
Lift again and burst in bloom
Fragrant with a prayer as sweet
As the lily at your feet.

Bend and kiss the folded eyes--
They are only feigning sleep
While their truant glances peep
    Into Paradise.
See, the face, though cold and white,
Holds a hint of some delight
E`en with Death, whose finger-tips
Rest upon the frozen lips.

When, within the years to come,
Vanished echoes live once more--
Pattering footsteps on the floor,
    And the sounds of home,--
Let your arms in fancy fold
Little Harlie as of old--
As of old and as he waits
At the City`s golden gates.
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