Poems (Procter)/A Changeling

by Adelaide Anne Procter

A CHANGELING.

LITTLE changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day:I had no heart or courage To drive the child away.

So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast;And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest.

I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep;I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep.

I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too:—It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue.

I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold,And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old.

I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast,Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest.

In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine,I saw the Virgin Mother Holding her Child divine.

I knelt down there in silence, And on the altar-stoneI laid my wailing burden, And came away—alone.

And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long,Is grown a shining angel, With wings both wide and strong.

She watches me from Heaven With loving, tender care,And one day she has promised That I shall find her there.