REQUEST OF THE DYING CHILD.
Stretch'd on the couch of pain, there lay a child
Of some few summers. The dense city's roofs
Throng'd thick around her, and the vertic sun
Pour'd from those glowing tiles a fervid heat
Upon her shrinking nerves. Sad she retraced
The rural scenes where her young childhood grew,
And wishfully her pale lips shaped the sound
Of home, sweet home.
"Dear mother, take me there,
To that first home. The early flowers that sprung
Beside the garden walk, and those tall trees,
Would I might see them but once more, and touch
The pleasant vine that o'er my window climb'd.
I could breathe freer there."
And so they raised
The languid child, for how could they deny
Her last heart-yearning? and with mournful tears
Wrapp'd as a traveller her whom Death had seal'd
For his returnless journey.
Swift the boat
Shot o'er the river-tide, and then the wheel,
Careful yet tedious, mark'd the well-known track
O'er hill and valley. Patiently she bore
The weary travel, and when sunset brought
The well-remember'd haunt, upraised her head,
And with a tremulous and tender tone
