Two once dwelt here, a Mother and her Child:
She was a widow, and had deeply drank
The cup of bitterness. But woman bears
The storm man shrinks from unrepiningly.
At length the one to whom her love had been
A light mid darkness died, and she was left
In coldness and unkindness: but one link
Still bound her to this earth; there was a smile
Bore gladness to her wounded heart, a voice
Of joy and consolation, one who made
Life very precious to her—the young bird,
Her own sweet nestling, yet too young to know
What clouds hung o'er him.—Quiet came at last;
The mourner found a little lone retreat
Where she might rest her weary feet—this isle
Became her home. Her child grew up
A hope and blessing to her:—she was proud
To hear that when he joined his young compeers,
No foot was fleet as his, no hand could send
The arrow so unerringly, and none
So lightly and so fearlessly could scale
The height whereon the eagle dwelt; and, more
Than all, to feel how she was loved! He seemed
To live but for her. When with boyish pride
He dared the venturous path the others feared,
If chance he saw his mother's cheek grow pale,
The meed was left unwon. One morn he went
In his light skiff, and promised to return
As evening fell; but when the sun sank down
The air was thick with clouds, and the fierce wind
Poured in its anger o'er the waters; loud
The thunder rolled, and the red lightnings hurled
Their fiery warnings. High upon a rock
She raised a fire:—the lightning struck the pile,
She marked it not—the rain beat on her head,
It was unfelt—but with the agony
Of hope expiring, still she fed the flame.
Day rolled the clouds away, and, sick at heart,
She looked towards the shore—he floated there,
Her own beloved Child!—With one wild shriek
She threw herself towards him, and the waves
Close on them undivided! - - - L. E. L.
