Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/131

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THE MOTHER'S JEWELS.
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    Within, two holy eyes,
Two little hands clasped softly, and a brow
Where thought sits busy, weaving garlands now
    Of joys and sights
    For the swift coming years.
Two rosy lips with innocent worship part:
List I be thou saint or sceptic, if thou art
    Thou must have ears:
  'Now I lay me down to sleep,
  I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
  If I should die before I wake,
  I pray the Lord my soul to take.'

    Doth it not noiseless ope
The very floodgates of thy heart, and make
A better man of thee, for her sweet sake,
    Who, with strong hope,
    Her sweet task ne'er forgot
To whisper, 'Now I lay me,' o'er and o'er?
As thou didst kneel upon the sanded floor—
    Forget them not!

    From many a festive hall,
Where flashing light and flashing glances vie,
And, robed in splendour, mirth makes revelry—
    Soft voices call
    On the light-hearted throngs
To sweep the harp-strings, and to join the dance.
The careless girl starts lightly, as perchance,
    Amid the songs,
    The merry laugh, the jest,
Come to her vision songs of long ago,
When, by her downy conch, she murmured low,
    Before her rest,
    That simple infant prayer.
Once more at home, she lays her jewels by,
Throws back the curls that shade her heavy eye,
    And kneeling there,
    With quivering lip and sigh,
Takes from her finger white the sparkling rings,
The golden coronet from her brow, and flings
    The baubles by;
    Nor doth she thoughtless dare
To seek her rest, till she hath asked of Heaven
That all her sins, through Christ, may be forgiven.
    Then comes the prayer:

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