University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
collapse sectionIII. 
  
expand section 
expand section 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
  
  
  
expand sectionIV. 
expand sectionV. 
expand sectionVI. 

VI. MARY SAYING HER PRAYERS.

1.

Wilful and dull and sullen seems that child;
But who in that soft countenance can find
An index to the thoughts that fret her mind?
By no long-cherished hope was she beguiled?
Has no uncertain vision gleamed and smiled,
Then faded from her eyelids? Had the wind,
Circling the world, no messages consigned
To her young heart this morning sweet and mild,
When with the dawn it touched upon her brow?
By recollections flickering, undefined,
Perhaps she may be haunted even now;
By dim and shapeless aspirations vexed,
With infantile experiences entwined;
By half-seen truths surprised, alarmed, perplexed
August 15, 1846.