A gift book of stories and poems for children :: :: University of Virginia Library

I wandered forth, at closing day,
To breathe the evening air;
Not yet was dropp'd the curtain gray,
Which hides the flowerets fair.

They blush'd in beauty 'neath my tread,
And all their rich perfume
Around in generous fragrance shed,
Unwitting of their doom.

I could not choose but bid my eye,
In simple gladness, rest
Upon the gorgeous drapery,
That lin'd the lovely west.

And fain was I to hear the note
The blackbird gaily sung,
As on the air it seem'd to float,
And o'er my heart-strings rung.

I reach'd the brook and mossy stone,
Where lingering still for me,
Was wont to sit, till twilight lone,
My little Lucy Lee.

Her knitting in her merry way,
Would Lucy hold on high,
And all the progress of the day,
Upon the fingers try.

She was not there—not richly now
To me the sunset beam'd;
The blackbird carol'd on the bough,
But not for me it seem'd.

More bright than these was Lucy's look,
When yesterday it shone,
More sweet her voice, when o'er the brook,
She sent its joyous tone.

I hasten'd onward to the cot,
Where Lucy's mother dwelt,—

Why seem'd it such a lonely spot!
I never thus had felt.

The woodbine now as gracefully,
Around the porch was hung,
The little gate with motion free
As hospitably swung.

I paused a moment—and a groan
Fell deeply on my ear;
I enter'd, it was Lucy's moan,
She knew not I was near.

She knelt beside her mother's bed,
Her head was resting there;
The mother's struggling breath had fled,
Her daughter knelt in prayer.

And tears came gushing on her cheek,
And sobs convuls'd her frame,
I heard the little sufferer speak,
It was her mother's name.

Come to my arms, poor child, I cried,
Come hither, Lucy Lee,
God has been lavish to my pride,
I'll share his gifts with thee.

She lean'd her pale cheek on my breast
I press'd her to my heart,
And from that sacred place of rest,
No more shall she depart.