'He says I shall never live thro' it, O Annie, what shall I do?' Annie consider'd. 'If I,' said the wise little Annie, 6 was you, I should cry to the dear Lord Jesus to help me, for, Emmie, you see, It's all in the picture there: "Little children should (Meaning the print that you gave us, I find that it always can please Our children, the dear Lord Jesus with children about his knees.) 'Yes, and I will,' said Emmie, but then if I call to the Lord, How should he know that it's me? such a lot of beds in the ward!' That was a puzzle for Annie. Again she consider'd and said: Emmie, you put out your arms, and you leave 'em outside on the bed The Lord has so much to see to! but, Emmie, you it him plain, tell It's the little girl with her arms lying out on the counterpane.' VII. I had sat three nights by the child-I could not watch her for four My brain had begun to reel-I felt I could do it no more. That was my sleeping-night, but I thought that it never would pass. There was a thunderclap once, and a clatter of hail on the glass, And there was a phantom cry that I heard as I tost about, The motherless bleat of a lamb in the storm and the darkness without; My sleep was broken besides with dreams of the dread ful knife And fears for our delicate Emmie who scarce would escape with her life; Then in the gray of the morning it seem'd she stood by me and smiled, And the doctor came at his hour, and we went to see to the child. VIII. He had brought his ghastly tools: we believed her asleep again Her dear, long, lean, little arms lying out on the counterpane; Say that His day is done! Ah why should we care what they say? The Lord of the children had heard her, and Emmie had past away. 97 DEDICATORY POEM TO THE PRINCESS ALICE. DEAD PRINCESS, living Power, if that, which lived True life, live on-and if the fatal kiss, Born of true life and love, divorce thee not This shadow into Substance then perhaps The mellow'd murmur of the people's praise From thine own State, and all our breadth of realm, Where Love and Longing dress thy deeds in light, Ascends to thee; and this March morn that sees Thy Soldier-brother's bridal orange-bloom Break thro' the yews and cypress H of thy grave, |