Stranger, however great,
With lowly reverence bow;
There's one in that poor shed—
One by that paltry bed—
Greater than thou.
Beneath that beggar's roof,
Lo! Death doth keep his state.
Enter, no crowds attend;
Enter, no guards defend
This palace gate.
That pavement, damp and cold,
No smiling courtiers tread;
One silent woman stands,
Lifting with meagre hands
A dying head.
No mingling voices sound,—
An infant wail alone;
A sob suppressed,—again
That short deep gasp, and then—
The parting groan.
O change! O wondrous change!
Burst are the prison bars,—
This moment there so low,
So agonized, and now
Beyond the stars.
O change! stupendous change!
There lies the soulless clod;
The sun eternal breaks,
The new immortal wakes,—
Wakes with his God.
Caroline Bowles Southey.
ON A PICTURE OF PEEL CASTLE IN A STORM.
I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy form was sleeping on a glassy sea.