His little Blue Dress is hidden away
From the eyes of the vulgar world,—
And the dear little Shoes,— more precious are they
Than silver or gold empearled —
Jewels that lure like the stars above,
Hidden from all but the eyes of love.
I watched him oft with a mother's heart
As he played with his dear little toys;
But now he is gone, and I sit apart
And muse of those vanished joys;—
Dream of his eyes and his beautiful hair,
And thrill with the love of a sweet despair.
The gaze of the vulgar world today
Would only my jewels abuse;
And this is the reason I hid them away,—
The little Blue Dress and the Shoes:
And I pray that in death my eyes may caress
The dear little Shoes and the little Blue Dress.