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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
Thou wast some foundling whom the Hours
Nursed, laughing, with the milk of Mirth;
Some influence more gay than ours
Hath ruled thy nature from its birth,
As if thy natal-stars were flowers
That shook their seeds round thee on earth.
Nursed, laughing, with the milk of Mirth;
Some influence more gay than ours
Hath ruled thy nature from its birth,
As if thy natal-stars were flowers
That shook their seeds round thee on earth.
And thou, to lull thine infant rest,
Wast cradled like an Indian child;
All pleasant winds from south and west
With lullabics thine cars beguiled,
Rocking thee in thine oriole’s nest,
Till Nature looked at thee and smiled.
Wast cradled like an Indian child;
All pleasant winds from south and west
With lullabics thine cars beguiled,
Rocking thee in thine oriole’s nest,
Till Nature looked at thee and smiled.
Thine every fancy seems to borrow
A sunlight from thy childish years,
Making a golden cloud of sorrow
A hope-lit rainbow out of tears,—
Thy heart is certain of to-morrow,
Though 'yond to-day it never peers.
A sunlight from thy childish years,
Making a golden cloud of sorrow
A hope-lit rainbow out of tears,—
Thy heart is certain of to-morrow,
Though 'yond to-day it never peers.