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"Upon the light with cheerfulness, for thee
"My Infant; and for that good Mother dear,
"Who bore me,—and hath prayed for me in vain;—
"Yet not in vain, it shall not be in vain."
She spake, nor was the assurance unfulfilled,
And if heart-rending thoughts would oft return
They stayed not long.—The blameless Infant grew;
The Child whom Ellen and her Mother loved
They soon were proud of: tended it and nursed,
A soothing comforter, although forlorn;
Like a poor singing-bird from distant lands;
Or a choice shrub, which he, who passes by
With vacant mind, not seldom may observe
Fair-flowering in a thinly-peopled house,
Whose window, somewhat sadly, it adorns.
—Through four months' space the Infant drew its food
From the maternal breast; then scruples rose;
Thoughts, which the rich are free from, came and crossed
The sweet affection. She no more could bear
By her offence to lay a twofold weight
On a kind parent willing to forget
Their slender means, so, to that parent's care
