CHILD LEFT ON THE SEA-SHORE.
Adapted to a picture by Sully.
Why dost thou sport amid those swelling waves,
Child of the frolic brow? The billows rush
Foaming and vexing with a maniac's wrath,
To do unuttered deeds, and the wild clouds
Muster and frown, as if bold midnight rear'd
Her throne at noon-day. Hear'st thou not the winds
Uttering their ruffian threats? Is this a time
To lave that snowy foot? Away! away!