BABE BURIED AT SEA.
The deep sea took the dead. It was a babe
Like sculptur'd marble, pure and beautiful,
That lonely to its yawning gulfs went down.
— Poor cradled nursling — no fond arm was there
To wrap thee in its folds; no lullaby
Came from the green sea-monster, as he laid
His shapeless head thy polished brow beside,
One moment wondering at the beauteous spoil
On which he fed. Old Ocean heeded not
This added unit to his myriad dead:
But in the bosom of the tossing ship
Rose up a burst of anguish, wild and loud,
From the vex'd fountain of a mother's love.
— The lost! The lost! Oft shall her startled dream
Catch the drear echo of the sullen plunge
That whelm'd the uncoffin'd body — oft her eye
Strain wide through midnight's long unslumbering watch,
Remembering how his soft sweet breathing seem'd
Like measur'd music in a lily's cup,
