Julia Ann Moore Poems

He is sleeping, sounding sleeping
In the cold and silent tomb.
He is resting, sweetly resting
In perfect peace, all alone.
...

Dearest one, do you remember,
As we sat side by side,
How you told me that you loved me,
Asked me to be your bride.
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We are little children,
That go to Sabbath school,
To hear of our Redeemer,
Likewise the golden rule.
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On the life of Andrew Jackson,
Now dear people I will write,
And in sketches, I will tell you
His career with great delight.
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Hail the coming holiday,
With a hearty joyous feast,
And drive away sorrow, friends,
For a day or two at least;
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Bless those little children
That love to go to school;
Blessed be the children
That obey the golden rule.
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Fourth of July, how sweet it sounds,
As every year it rolls around.
It brings active joy to boy and man,
This glorious day throughout our land.
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Gently on the stream of time,
We are floating day by day,
In life's native boats sublime
We soon anchor in the bay.
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Air -- "He Folds Them on His Bosom''

Be kind to all little ones,
All fathers, mothers dear,
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Air -- "Lucy Long"


My friends, I pray you listen,
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