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Sonnets, Lyrics and Translations

By the Rev. Charles Turner [i.e. Charles Tennyson]
 

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LITTLE NORA;
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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9

LITTLE NORA;

OR, THE PORTRAIT.

I ask'd of little Nora, but he gave
A piteous sigh—his answer did not come;
My friend stood gazing on his daughter's tomb,
Till, with a sudden shame, I saw it too;
At last he said: “She died three moons ago:”
So long entomb'd had little Nora been,
So long I knew not of her father's woe!
Then came her portrait forth, which I had seen,
And he had shown with pride, when last we met;
The same bright smile—the rose-o'erladen arms,
And all her pretty sum of infant-charms;
But lo! a fair memorial tress was set,
Facing the porcelain picture, where his child
Still nurs'd her pile of summer-wreaths and smil'd.