TO MY LITTLE NAMESAKE.
203
With their sparkle and expression And their soft impassioned hue,Like the shining sun-kissed heaven, Tender, beautiful, and blue.And I clasp you to my bosom With a sudden rush of tears,While a dream I thought forgotten Rises from the sea of years,—
Rises up and stands before me Like the faces that we seeCut in cold and pallid marble, Wrought in death's white imagery.And the pale hand of remembrance Lifts the pall that lies aboveThe cold and lifeless ashes Of a dead and buried love,—
Lifts it up and lays it sadly On the broken, ruined shrine,Once the sacrificial altar Of his youthful heart and mine.Softly through my spirit trembles Such a low, impassioned strain,
