 | This, that and the other |  |
TO A PICTURE OF NATALIE.
“Her eyes were homes of silent prayer.”
Pictured saint, in whose deep eyes
Many a psalm and prayer there lies,
Set like stars in twilight skies —
Underneath thy banded hair
Lies a brow so pale and fair,
Angels leave their kisses there.
Pressing on thy dimpled cheek,
With her lips so pure and meek,
Doth the Virgin mother speak
All her love for thee, her child, —
Holy, sainted, undefiled, —
Heart by earth-care ne'er beguiled.
What clime soe'er calls thee its own,
Sunny south or frozen zone,
If heaven hath angels, thou art one! —
Coming in thy mortal guise,
From thy distant Paradise,
Lest thy glory blind our eyes!
Pictured saint, in whose deep eyes
Many a psalm and prayer there lies,
Set like stars in twilight skies —
Underneath thy banded hair
Lies a brow so pale and fair,
Angels leave their kisses there.
Pressing on thy dimpled cheek,
With her lips so pure and meek,
Doth the Virgin mother speak
All her love for thee, her child, —
Holy, sainted, undefiled, —
Heart by earth-care ne'er beguiled.
What clime soe'er calls thee its own,
Sunny south or frozen zone,
If heaven hath angels, thou art one! —
Coming in thy mortal guise,
From thy distant Paradise,
Lest thy glory blind our eyes!
| This, that and the other | |