THE CHILD'S WARNING.
There's blood upon the lady's cheek,
There's brightness in her eye:
Who says the sentence is gone forth
That that fair thing must die?
Must die before the flowering lime,
Out yonder, sheds its leaf—
Can this thing be, O human flower!
Thy blossoming so brief?
Nay, nay, 'tis but a passing cloud,
Thou didst but droop awhile;
There's life, long years, and love and joy,
Whole ages, in that smile—
In the gay call that to thy knee
Brings quick that loving child,
Who looks up in those laughing eyes
With his large eyes so mild.
Yet, thou art doom'd—art dying; all
The coming hour foresee,
But, in love's cowardice, withhold
The warning word from thee.
God keep thee and be merciful!
His strength is with the weak;
Through babes and sucklings, the Most High
Hath oft vouchsafed to speak—
And speaketh now—"Oh, mother dear!"
Murmurs the little child;
And there is trouble in its eyes,
Those large blue eyes so mild—
"Oh, mother dear! they say that soon,
When here I seek for thee,
I shall not find thee—nor out there,
Under the old oak-tree;
"Nor up stairs in the nursery,
Nor any where, they say.
Where wilt thou go to, mother dear?
Oh, do not go away!"
Then was long silence—a deep hush—
And then the child's low sob.
Her quivering eyelids close—one hand
Keeps down the heart's quick throb.
And the lips move, though sound is none,
That inward voice is prayer.
And hark! "Thy will, O Lord, be done!"
And tears are trickling there,
Down that pale cheek, on that young head—
And round her neck he clings;
And child and mother murmur out
Unutterable things.
He half unconscious—she deep-struck
With sudden, solemn truth,
That number'd are her days on earth,
Her shroud prepared in youth—
That all in life her heart holds dear,
God calls her to resign.
She hears—feels—trembles—but looks up,
And sighs, "Thy will be mine!"
C.