 | Poems |  |
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DEAD IN THE NEST.
[From an Epitaph in an English Cathedral.]
She lay in her cradle, sweet and fair,
With smiling lips like a daisy's bloom,
A cloud of lace on the silk-white hair
And slumber veiling her eyes' soft gloom.
With smiling lips like a daisy's bloom,
A cloud of lace on the silk-white hair
And slumber veiling her eyes' soft gloom.
A dew-drop gleamed on the blue-veined brow,
Where priestly fingers the cross had signed,
The tearful token of many a vow
That baby spirit to guard and bind.
Where priestly fingers the cross had signed,
The tearful token of many a vow
That baby spirit to guard and bind.
Still she slept, for the rite was done,
The choral hushed and the prayers all said,
The life for Heaven on earth begun,
The chrismal dews on her forehead shed.
The choral hushed and the prayers all said,
The life for Heaven on earth begun,
The chrismal dews on her forehead shed.
One by one the sponsors came,
Gifts of price at her feet to lay—
A golden cup, with the sweet new name;
A string of pearls for the baby's day;
Gifts of price at her feet to lay—
A golden cup, with the sweet new name;
A string of pearls for the baby's day;
Ermine mantle and robe of silk,
Thick and heavy with broidered show;
And silver bells, as white as milk,
Frosted like lilies all a-row;
Thick and heavy with broidered show;
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Frosted like lilies all a-row;
Carven coral and filmy lace;
Velvet shoes for the tiny feet;
Babies to stare in the baby's face,
With silent smiles for her laughter sweet.
Velvet shoes for the tiny feet;
Babies to stare in the baby's face,
With silent smiles for her laughter sweet.
Heiress she of a lineage proud,
Tender bud of a stately tree;
Over her cradle bend and crowd
Lord and lady of high degree.
Tender bud of a stately tree;
Over her cradle bend and crowd
Lord and lady of high degree.
Gift on gift in her nest they lay,
Knight, and squire, and priest, and nun;
Till the christening guests are all away
And earth is red with the setting sun.
Knight, and squire, and priest, and nun;
Till the christening guests are all away
And earth is red with the setting sun.
“Still she sleeps?” 'Tis the mother calls.
“Still, my lady; nor sound nor sigh.”
Ah! through the lofty castle walls.
Rings a sudden and fearful cry.
“Still, my lady; nor sound nor sigh.”
Ah! through the lofty castle walls.
Rings a sudden and fearful cry.
Yes, she sleeps! in her hour of pride,
Crushed by splendors above her spread;
Of heavy treasures the child hath died,
Stifled and cold in her gorgeous bed.
Crushed by splendors above her spread;
Of heavy treasures the child hath died,
Stifled and cold in her gorgeous bed.
Sleeps she now forever and aye.
Long ago did the legend bloom;
The baby blossom who died that day
Is but dust in a lordly tomb.
Long ago did the legend bloom;
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Is but dust in a lordly tomb.
Yet the story lives o'er and o'er;
Still as the swift years onward roll,
Earth's heaped riches have crushed far more
Many and many a living soul!
Still as the swift years onward roll,
Earth's heaped riches have crushed far more
Many and many a living soul!
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