Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/53

No shut of rose at eventide
    Was with a peace so deep,
As o'er thy darling's closing eye
    Stole his last dovelike sleep."

Where best he loved to hide him,
    In that dear sheltering spot,
Just there his tender spirit pass'd—
    Pass'd, and she knew it not:
His fond lip never trembled,
    Nor sigh'd the parting breath,
When strangely for his nectar'd draught
    He drank the cup of death.

Full was thy lot of blessing,
    To charm his cradle-hours,
To touch his sparkling fount of thought,
    And breathe his breath of flowers,
And take thy daily lesson
    From the smile that beam'd so free,
Of what in holier, brighter realms,
    The pure in heart must be.

No more thy twilight musing
    May with his image shine,
When in that lonely hour of love
    He laid his cheek to thine;
So still and so confiding
    That cherish'd babe would be,
So like a sinless guest from heaven,
    And yet a part of thee.