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a mother's prayer in illness.
To answer her and meet her warm caress!
For I away, how oft in this rough world,
That earnest question will be ask'd in vain!
How oft that eager, passionate, petted heart,
Will shrink abash'd and chill'd, to learn at length
The hateful, withering lesson of distrust!
Ah! let her nestle still upon this breast,
In which each shade, that dims her darling face,
Is felt and answer'd, as the lake reflects
The clouds that cross yon smiling heaven! and thou—
My modest Ellen! tender, thoughtful, true;
Thy soul attuned to all sweet harmonies;
My pure, proud, noble Ellen! with thy gifts
Of genius, grace, and loveliness, half hidden
'Neath the soft veil of innate modesty,
How will the world's wild discord reach thy heart
To startle and appal! thy generous scorn
Of all things base and mean—thy quick, keen taste,
Dainty and delicate—thy instinctive fear
Of those unworthy of a soul so pure,
Thy rare, unchildlike dignity of mien,
All—they will all bring pain to thee, my child!
And oh! if even their grace and goodness meet
Cold looks and careless greetings, how will all
The latent evil yet undisciplined
For I away, how oft in this rough world,
That earnest question will be ask'd in vain!
How oft that eager, passionate, petted heart,
Will shrink abash'd and chill'd, to learn at length
The hateful, withering lesson of distrust!
Ah! let her nestle still upon this breast,
In which each shade, that dims her darling face,
Is felt and answer'd, as the lake reflects
The clouds that cross yon smiling heaven! and thou—
My modest Ellen! tender, thoughtful, true;
Thy soul attuned to all sweet harmonies;
My pure, proud, noble Ellen! with thy gifts
Of genius, grace, and loveliness, half hidden
'Neath the soft veil of innate modesty,
How will the world's wild discord reach thy heart
To startle and appal! thy generous scorn
Of all things base and mean—thy quick, keen taste,
Dainty and delicate—thy instinctive fear
Of those unworthy of a soul so pure,
Thy rare, unchildlike dignity of mien,
All—they will all bring pain to thee, my child!
And oh! if even their grace and goodness meet
Cold looks and careless greetings, how will all
The latent evil yet undisciplined
