 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
ON SEEING AN ENGRAVING OF A SHIPWRECK.
Ah me! I never see a scene like this,But o'er my heart a sudden shadow goes,
A faint, but fearful vision of the storm,
That wreck'd the darling of our household hearth—
318
I was a child when he was lost at sea,
And hardly knew the loss, or him remembered;
But often since, in my lone hours of thought,
I've had dim dreamings of a blue-eyed boy,
Who watched and sometimes shared my pleasant play;
And when swift gleams went by of waving hair,
And brow of girlish softness, and a smile,
Rich with heart-tenderness, and truth, and joy,
I've felt that such were his, and blessed my dream.
Then I recall his parting gift—a book,—
It would be worth all others to me now!—
Alas! 'twas lost before a week had flown;
Yet with his last caress he bade me keep it,
Till he should come,—he never came again!
Returning, and almost in sight of home,
Already seen in Fancy,—his young cheek
Yet blest and warm with Love's imagined kiss,
And his pure heart o'erflowing with sweet hopes,
The ship went down—a shattered wreck,—and he!—
That night his welcome-home was breathed in Heaven!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |