From the Urchin pining For his Father's kneeFrom the lattice shining, Drive him out to sea! Let broad leagues dissever Him from yonder foam ;Oh, God! to think Man ever Comes too near his Home! THE DEATH-BED. WE watch'd her breathing thro' the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life So silently we seem'd to speak, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, For when the morn came dim and sad, Her quiet eyelids clos'd-she had Another morn than ours. |