Sun books

ANGELINA.


BLUE-EYED child, with flaxen ringlets,
'Neath my window played, one day;
And its tiny song of gladness,
Sounded like an angel's lay.
Roses bright in beauty blossomed
Round the path the cherub trod
Yet it seemed that child was fairest,
Freshest from the hand of God.
Watched I her till hour of sunset
Told me of the coming night,
And the sun o'er rock and mountain
Shed its flood of golden light.
Yet she gambolled, though the dew-drops
Fell upon her thick and fast;
Fearing ill, I went and told her,--
Dearest child, the day hath past:
"Haste thee to thy home,--there waiting
Is thy parent, thee to bless."
Then she hasted from the play-ground,
To her mother's fond caress.
Stars shone forth in all their splendor,
And the moon with silver light
Rose in beauty, and presided
Queen o'er all the hosts of night.
Days had passed; I had not seen her,
Had not heard her merry laugh,
Nor those joyous tones that told me
Of the joy her spirit quaffed.


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