THE CHILD'S LAMENT OVER HER WOUNDED FAWN. HE wanton troopers, riding by, Have shot my fawn, and it will die. Ungentle men! they cannot thrive Thy murder, I will join my tears And nothing we may use in vain, I it at my own fingers nurst; It waxed more white and sweet than they. It had so sweet a breath! and oft It blushed, to see its foot more soft It is a wondrous thing, how fleet THE WOUNDED FAWN. And when't had left me far away, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness : And all the spring-time of the year Have sought it oft, where it should lie; For in the flaxen lilies' shade, 37 THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, “Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he; "Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again.” He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowrets gay," The Reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, 66 Where He was once a child. 'They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear." OUR LOST DARLING. THIS is a curl of our poor "Splendid's" hair! We stood at midnight in the Presence dread. The mystery dilated in her look, Which, on the darkening death-ground, faintly caught The likeness of the angel shining near. Her passing soul flashed back a glimpse of bliss. A crown of conquest bound her baby-brow; Her little hands could take the heirdom large; And all her childhood's vagrant royalty Sat staid and calm in some eternal throne. Love's kiss is sweet, but Death's doth make immortal. And there our darling lay in coffined calm, And o'er her flowed the white eternal peace : |