Hardly the worst of us Here could have smiled! Only the tremulous Words of a child; Prattle, that has for stops Look. She is sad to miss, Morning and night, His her dead father's-kiss; THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. A SKETCH IN A CEMETERY. OUT from the City's dust and roar, You wandered through the open door; Paused at a plaything pail and spade Across a tiny hillock laid; Then noted on your dexter side Some moneyed mourner's "love or pride" And so, beyond a hawthorn-tree, Showering its rain of rosy bloom Alike on low and lofty tomb, You came upon it suddenly. How strange! The very grasses' growth Askance that wreathed the neighbour urn. The slab had sunk; the head declined, No name; you traced 66 a "7," Part of "affliction " and of "Heaven"; You read - O Irony austere ! "Tho' lost to Sight, to Mem'ry dear." A MY LANDLADY. SMALL brisk woman, capped with many a bow; "Yes," so she says, "and younger, too, than Who bids me, bustling, "God speed," when I go, And gives me, rustling, "Welcome," when I come. "Ay, sir, 'tis cold, and freezing hard, — they say; I'd like to give that hulking brute a hit — Beating his horse in such a shameful way! — Step here, sir, till your fire 's blazed up a bit." A musky haunt of lavender and shells, A life's collection - where each object tells A glossy screen, where wide-mouth dragons ramp; A vexed inscription in a sampler-frame; A shade of beads upon a red-capped lamp; A pictured ship, with full-blown canvas set; A card, with sea-weed twisted to a wreath, Circling a silky curl as black as jet, With yellow writing faded underneath. Looking, I sink within the shrouded chair, son! " 66 Yes, 'tis my "Where is he?" "Ah, sir, he is dead - my boy! "There were two souls washed overboard, they said, And one the waves brought back; but he was left. They saw him place the life-buoy o'er his head; The sea was running wildly; — he was left. |