In childhood's hour I lingered near She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, I sat and watched her many a day, And I almost worshiped her when she smiled, And turned from her Bible to bless her child. 'Tis past! 'tis past! but I gaze on it now And memory flows like lava-tide. But I love it, I love it, and cannot tear ELIZA COOK. Kiss him once for Somebody's sake; Been baptized in those waves of light? God knows best; he was Somebody's love; Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above Night and morn on the wings of prayer; HY art thou slow, thou rest of trouble, Somebody wept when he marched away, Death, To stop a wretch's breath? That calls on thee, and offers her sad heart, A prey unto thy dart? Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand. I am nor young nor fair; be therefore bold; Somebody's waiting and watching for him, SOMEBODY'S DARLING. (It is said that the author of this popular poem wished to remain unknown. It was first published in the "Southern Churchman," her name being attached without her knowledge. While it may be a matter of wonder that she has never written anything else, it may be conJectured that her wishes have not been disregarded in respect to other poems.) INTO a ward of the whitewashed walls, Matted and damp are the curls of gold, Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; All earthly comforts vanish thus; GEORGE WITHER. |