Of the children's realm elysian!
Ah! with what transport we kissed him!
Not dead! not dead! howe'er we missed him!
Heaven, too, vouchsafes another token;
The little organ was not broken!
Lo! baby turns it round and round,
Rejoicing in the wonted sound,
Yea, singing in his blouse of blue,
Lovelier than we ever knew.
VI.
While he lay nightly racked with pain,
Wept and shrieked the hurricane.
Yea, on that terrible night he died,
The clamour of fell fiends, beside
Themselves with hell's blaspheming anger,
Exultant in his god-wept languor,
Seemed to hound him on to death,
Hungry for his innocent breath!
But now what raves it for, and howls
Around with moan of drifted souls!
Are ye not satiate with such
A pure white victim to your clutch,
Yielded by the Powers above,
Who yet we dare to dream are Love?
The loveliest, most heavenly-hearted
Child ever by themselves imparted
