University of Virginia Library

“Tell me a story, please,” my little girl
Lisp'd from her cradle. So I bent me down,
And told her how it rain'd, and rain'd, and rain'd,
Till all the flowers were cover'd, and the trees
Hid their tall heads, and where the houses stood,
And people dwelt, a fearful deluge roll'd;
Because the world was wicked, and refus'd
To heed the words of God.
But one good man,
Who long had warn'd the wicked to repent,
Obey, and live, taught by the voice of heaven,
Had built an ark; and thither, with his wife
And children, turn'd for safety. Two and two
Of birds and beasts, and creeping things, he took,
With food for all; and when the tempest roar'd,
And the great fountains of the sky pour'd out
A ceaseless flood, till all beside were drown'd,
They in their quiet vessel dwelt secure.

And so the mighty waters bare them up,
And o'er the bosom of the deep they sail'd
For many days. But then a gentle dove
'Scap'd from the casement of the ark, and spread
Her lonely pinion o'er the boundless wave.
All, all was desolation. Chirping nest,
Nor face of man, nor living thing she saw,
For all the people of the earth were drown'd,
Because of disobedience.
Nought she spied,
Save wide, deep waters, and dark, frowning skies,
Nor found her weary foot a place of rest.
So, with a leaf of olive in her mouth,
Sole fruit of her drear voyage, which, perchance,
Upon some wrecking billow floated by,
With drooping wing the peaceful ark she sought.
The righteous man that wandering dove receiv'd,
And to her mate restor'd, who, with sad moan,
Had wondered at her absence.
Then I look'd
Upon the child, to see if her young thought
Wearied with following mine. But her blue eye
Was a glad listener, and the eager breath
Of pleas'd attention curl'd her parted lip.
And so I told her how the waters dried,
And the green branches wav'd, and the sweet buds
Came up in loveliness, and that meek dove
Went forth to build her nest, and thousand birds
Awoke their songs of praise, while the tir'd ark
Upon the breezy breast of Ararat
Repos'd, and Noah, with glad spirit, rear'd
An altar to his God.
Since, many a time,
When to her rest, ere evening's earliest star,
That little one is laid, with earnest tone,
And pure cheek press'd to mine, she fondly asks,
“The ark and dove.”
Mothers can tell how oft,
In the heart's eloquence, the prayer goes up
From a seal'd lip, and tenderly hath blent,
With the warm touching of the sacred tale,
A voiceless wish, that when that timid soul,
Now in the rosy mesh of infancy,
Fast bound, shall dare the billows of the world,
Like that exploring dove, and find no rest,
A pierc'd, a pitying, a redeeming hand,
May gently guide it to the ark of peace.