Have risen up—the gay, the wild—
As humble as a very child!
THE HINDOO MOTHER.
It was a gentle eve in Hindoostan.
The rains were past, and the delighted earth
Was beautiful once more, and glittering leaves
Were lifting lightly on their beaten stems,
And glancing to the pure, transparent sky,
Like a pleased infant smiling through its tears.
Clouds lingered in the west, and tints were drawn