CRADLE AND GRAVE.
March 16, 1856.
A ROUND a cradle courtiers bent
Wherein a babe slept royally
Beneath the purple robe of state,
Gemmed thick with broidered golden bee.
That tiny rosy palm held fast
The slender link of empire s chain,
On which hung many a waiting hope
Of dynasty enthroned again.
Kisses of welcome met its breath,
A happy mother s blessing fell
From pallid lips above the child,
Whose birth-cry stilled a fun ral knell,
Whilst cannon thundered out the news,
Flags bloomed like flowers in the air,
And down the brilliant avenues
Re-echoed vivas ev ry where.
June 1, 1879.
Above poor Louis last low couch
Only the tangled grasses bent,
As though in pity for the lad
So early from Life s battle sent.
No vivas woke that tropic air;
Only the mouths of wounds agape
