CRUCE AND CORONA.
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Her arms entwine, in rev'rent tones she says,"My little sister God hath sent to me."
II.
'Tis morn again upon this lovely isle;And years have passed since 'neath that bow'r of vinesCorona heard the story of Crucè.Corona now is seated in that bow'r,Her childhood flown, in youth's bright, lovely dawn;The rare celestial light within her eyesHath deepened, brightened. Now her gaze is bentUpon a volume that before her lies.
Beside Corona stands an aged man.With thoughtful aspect on her doth he gaze,Absorbed in meditation. Now and thenThe girl looks up and interrupts his thoughtBy questioning upon the volume's thought.Sometimes his answers quickly come; and longOn subjects of high import his discourse.
Whene'er Corona's question doth relateTo aught that doth concern the human soul,Its workings, destiny, or duties highTo God above and to its fellow-souls,There comes a light within the old man's eyes
