John Bannister Tabb

My Angel

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O little child, that once was I,
And still in part must be,
When other children pass me by,
Again thy face I see.


Where art thou? Can the Innocence
That here no more remains,
Forget, tho' early banished hence,
What Memory retains?


Alas! and could'st thou look upon
The features that were thine,
To see of tender graces none
Abiding now in mine,


Thy heart compassionate would plead,
And, haply, not in vain,
As Angel Guardian, home to lead
The wanderer again.

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