To Natalie, as many a morn before.
Death’s mystery to him was yet untaught;
The lifeless babe no dread to his mind brought;
To mother’s arms he bore the drooping form—
“Poor baby cold! make pretty sister warm.”
The lustrums sped. A girl of lightsome heart
Was told, “He comes! with him thou must depart.”
To find her in the East, he sailed from West,
Responsive to the power of soul’s request.
Resistless forces bade her go fulfill