Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/63

Tell, too, thy little daughter, while she sits
Heedful beside thee, how the shepherds heard
The harps of angels while they watch'd their sheep:
And how the infant Saviour found no bed
Save a straw manger mid the horned train:
And how he raised the ruler's daughter up,
When on her dead brow lay the weeper's tear:
How at the tomb of Lazarus he mourn'd
With the sad sisters: and, when the wild sea,
And wilder tempest raged, stretch'd out his hand
And saved the faint disciple on the wave,
Who pray'd to him.
                                 Then, when the moisten'd eye
Reveals the softening soul, cast in thy seed,
And Heaven and holy angels water it!
So shall the spirit of the summer-storm
Gleam as a rainbow, when thy soul goes up,
With its dread company of deeds and thoughts,
To bide the audit of the day of doom.