And her hat, with shady brim, Sure, I said, Heaven did not mean, THE LADY'S DREAM. The lady lay in her bed, Her couch so warm and soft, But her sleep was restless and broken still; For, turning often and oft From side to side, she mutter'd and moan'd, And toss'd her arms aloft. At last she startled up, And gazed on the vacant air With a look of awe as if she saw Some dreadful phantom there— And then in the pillow she buried her face From visions ill to bear. The very curtain shook, Her terror was so extreme, And the light that fell on the broider'd quilt Kept a tremulous gleam; And her voice was hollow, and shook as she cried, "Oh me! that awful dream! "That weary, weary walk In the churchyard's dismal ground! And those horrible things, with shady wings, That came and flitted round Death, death, and nothing but death, In every sight and sound! "And oh! those maidens young Who wrought in that dreary room, With figures drooping and spectres thin, And cheeks without a bloom ; And the voice that cried, 'For the pomp of pride We haste to an early tomb! "For the pomp and pleasure of pride We toil like Afric slaves, And only to earn a home at last Where yonder cypress waves' ; And then it pointed-I never saw A ground so full of graves! "And still the coffins came, With their sorrowful trains and slow; Coffin after coffin still, A sad and sickening show; From grief exempt, I never had dreamt "Of the hearts that daily break, Disease and hunger, and pain and want, "For the blind and crippled were there, And the babe that pined for bread, And the houseless man, and the widow poor, Who begg'd-to bury the dead! The naked, alas! that I might have clad, The famish'd I might have fed! "The sorrow I might have soothed, And the unregarded tears; For many a thronging shape was there, From long-forgotten years, Ay, even the poor rejected Moor, Who raised my childish fears! "Each pleading look, that long ago Each face was gazing as plainly there, Woe, woe for me if the past should be "No need of sulphureous lake, No need of fiery coal, But only that crowd of humankind "Alas! I have walk'd through life Nay, helping to trample my fellow worm, Forgetting that even the sparrow falls "I drank the richest draughts, And ate whatever is good Fish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit, Supplied my hungry mood; But I never remember'd the wretched ones That starve for want of food! "I dress'd as the noble dress, In cloth of silver and gold, With silk, and satin, and costly furs, In many an ample fold; But I never remember'd the naked limbs, That froze with winter's cold. "The wounds I might have heal'd! The human sorrow and smart! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part: But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!" She clasp'd her fervent hands, And yet, oh yet, that many a dame Dary bowitt. 1799-1888. THE USE OF FLOWERS God might have bade the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all. We might have had enough, enough, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers. Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, |