The panther he felt the thrill of the air, And he gave a leap up, like that at his lair; He felt the sharp sweetness more strengthen his veins, And ere they're aware, he has burst his chains : Now what made the panther a prisoner be? Lo! 'twas the spices and luxury. And what set that lordly panther free? 'Twas Love!-'twas Love! - 'twas no one but he. TO A CHILD, DURING SICKNESS. SLEEP breathes at last from out thee, My little, patient boy; And balmy rest about thee I sit me down, and think Thy sidelong pillowed meekness, The little trembling hand demand Dread memories for years. Sorrows I've had, severe ones, The tears are in their bed. Ah, first-born of thy mother, My light, where'er I go, "His voice "his face" To feel impatient-hearted, Yet feel we must bear on; Ah, I could not endure To whisper of such woe, Unless I felt this sleep ensure That it will not be so. Yes, still he's fixed, and sleeping! Like parting wings of cherubim, TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET. GREEN little vaulter in the sunny grass, Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong, Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strong your clear hearts; and both seem giv'n to earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth. |