TO A POET'S CHILD.
A far harp swept the sea above;
A far voice said thy name in love:
Then silence on the harp was cast;
The voice was chain'd—the love went last!
And as I heard the melodie,
Sweet-voiced Fancy spake of thee:
And as the silence o'er it came,
Mine heart, in silence, sigh'd thy name.
I thought there was one only place,
Where thou couldst lift thine orphan'd face;
A little home for prayer and woe;—
A stone above—a shroud below;—
