In the Texarkana Gazette February 1923:
IN MEMORIUM
In memory of little Raymond Miller born Aug. 4th, 1920, died Dec. 24th, 1922, aged 2 years, 4 months and 20 days, son of Mack and Nora Miller:
Our darling has gone to rest,
But oh! what anguish fills our breast
To think that we who loved him so
Stood sorrowing by and watched him go.
The gentle voice of innocence that cheered us every day
Is hushed within the little bed where baby used to lay.
The tiny feet so soft and white, the tender velvet toes,
Will never peep again beneath our little darling's clothes.
The summertime has many charms to soothe the heart that's sad,
And brings a pleasure now and then to make the dreary glad.
But nothing comes with all its joys to fill the vacant place.
The little bed is empty now, we miss the baby's face.
Death has robbed us of our darling
Whom we loved and cherished dear.
It was Raymond, yes, dear Raymond;
Can we help but shed a tear?
Two sad months has passed away,
Two sad months since that fatal day,
When one we loved and prized
Lay cold in death before our eyes.
How we loved him, yes, we loved him,
Oh, no earthly tongue can tell;
Yes, the angels they have called him
Up to heaven to dwell.
The little bed is empty now;
The little clothes laid by,
A mother's hope; a father's joy,
In death's cold arms doth lie.
Go, little Raymond, to thy home
On yonder blissful shore;
We'll miss thee here, but soon we'll come
Where thou hast gone before.
From your loving aunt Maggie
IN MEMORIUM
In memory of little Raymond Miller born Aug. 4th, 1920, died Dec. 24th, 1922, aged 2 years, 4 months and 20 days, son of Mack and Nora Miller:
Our darling has gone to rest,
But oh! what anguish fills our breast
To think that we who loved him so
Stood sorrowing by and watched him go.
The gentle voice of innocence that cheered us every day
Is hushed within the little bed where baby used to lay.
The tiny feet so soft and white, the tender velvet toes,
Will never peep again beneath our little darling's clothes.
The summertime has many charms to soothe the heart that's sad,
And brings a pleasure now and then to make the dreary glad.
But nothing comes with all its joys to fill the vacant place.
The little bed is empty now, we miss the baby's face.
Death has robbed us of our darling
Whom we loved and cherished dear.
It was Raymond, yes, dear Raymond;
Can we help but shed a tear?
Two sad months has passed away,
Two sad months since that fatal day,
When one we loved and prized
Lay cold in death before our eyes.
How we loved him, yes, we loved him,
Oh, no earthly tongue can tell;
Yes, the angels they have called him
Up to heaven to dwell.
The little bed is empty now;
The little clothes laid by,
A mother's hope; a father's joy,
In death's cold arms doth lie.
Go, little Raymond, to thy home
On yonder blissful shore;
We'll miss thee here, but soon we'll come
Where thou hast gone before.
From your loving aunt Maggie
In the Texarkana Gazette February 1923:
IN MEMORIUM
In memory of little Raymond Miller born Aug. 4th, 1920, died Dec. 24th, 1922, aged 2 years, 4 months and 20 days, son of Mack and Nora Miller:
Our darling has gone to rest,
But oh! what anguish fills our breast
To think that we who loved him so
Stood sorrowing by and watched him go.
The gentle voice of innocence that cheered us every day
Is hushed within the little bed where baby used to lay.
The tiny feet so soft and white, the tender velvet toes,
Will never peep again beneath our little darling's clothes.
The summertime has many charms to soothe the heart that's sad,
And brings a pleasure now and then to make the dreary glad.
But nothing comes with all its joys to fill the vacant place.
The little bed is empty now, we miss the baby's face.
Death has robbed us of our darling
Whom we loved and cherished dear.
It was Raymond, yes, dear Raymond;
Can we help but shed a tear?
Two sad months has passed away,
Two sad months since that fatal day,
When one we loved and prized
Lay cold in death before our eyes.
How we loved him, yes, we loved him,
Oh, no earthly tongue can tell;
Yes, the angels they have called him
Up to heaven to dwell.
The little bed is empty now;
The little clothes laid by,
A mother's hope; a father's joy,
In death's cold arms doth lie.
Go, little Raymond, to thy home
On yonder blissful shore;
We'll miss thee here, but soon we'll come
Where thou hast gone before.
From your loving aunt Maggie
IN MEMORIUM
In memory of little Raymond Miller born Aug. 4th, 1920, died Dec. 24th, 1922, aged 2 years, 4 months and 20 days, son of Mack and Nora Miller:
Our darling has gone to rest,
But oh! what anguish fills our breast
To think that we who loved him so
Stood sorrowing by and watched him go.
The gentle voice of innocence that cheered us every day
Is hushed within the little bed where baby used to lay.
The tiny feet so soft and white, the tender velvet toes,
Will never peep again beneath our little darling's clothes.
The summertime has many charms to soothe the heart that's sad,
And brings a pleasure now and then to make the dreary glad.
But nothing comes with all its joys to fill the vacant place.
The little bed is empty now, we miss the baby's face.
Death has robbed us of our darling
Whom we loved and cherished dear.
It was Raymond, yes, dear Raymond;
Can we help but shed a tear?
Two sad months has passed away,
Two sad months since that fatal day,
When one we loved and prized
Lay cold in death before our eyes.
How we loved him, yes, we loved him,
Oh, no earthly tongue can tell;
Yes, the angels they have called him
Up to heaven to dwell.
The little bed is empty now;
The little clothes laid by,
A mother's hope; a father's joy,
In death's cold arms doth lie.
Go, little Raymond, to thy home
On yonder blissful shore;
We'll miss thee here, but soon we'll come
Where thou hast gone before.
From your loving aunt Maggie
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