Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/200

And here the meeker matron view'd
    Her children trooping round,
Who guide with shouts of laughter rude
    The ball's elastic bound,—

Anon to aid their sports would spread
    Her gay-flower'd ample gown,
Or at their quarrels shake her head
    And awe them with a frown.

Here, in thy arms,—the nodding nurse
    Has slumber'd out the night,
Regardless of the mutter'd curse
    Of the poor, gouty wight;

Or frighten'd from her stolen dream
    Has heard in deep dismay
The falling infant's piteous scream
    Who on her bosom lay.

Here beauty, like some blighted flower
    Smit by unfriendly sky,
Consumed the wakeful,—restless hour
    With bright, unearthly eye.

While on her cheek, the hectic glow
    Dire symbol of decay,
Reveal'd how fast the treacherous foe
    Was mining on his way.

Ah!—wouldst thou speak,—thou ancient Chair,
    What secrets couldst thou tell?
Of hidden Love's mysterious care
    Breathed in thy hermit cell.