Page:The Life of Mary Baker G. Eddy.djvu/68

Then wildly through the skies of blue,

To spread thy wings of dappled hue,

As if forsooth this frozen zone

Could yield one joy for bliss that's flown;

While sunward as thine eager flight,

That glance is fixed on visions bright.

And grief may nestle in that breast,

Some vulture may have robbed its rest,

But guileless as thou art, sweet thing,

With melting melody thou'lt sing;

The vulture's scream your nerves unstrung,

But, birdie, 'twas a woman's tongue.

I, too, would join thy sky-bound flight,

To orange groves and mellow light,

And soar from earth to loftier doom,

And light on flowers with sweet perfume,

And wake a genial, happy lay—

Where hearts are kind, and earth so gay.

Oh! to the captive's cell I'd sing

A song of hope—and freedom bring—

An olive leaf I'd quick let fall,

And lift our country's blackened pall;

Then homeward seek my frigid zone,

More chilling to the heart alone.

Lone as a solitary star,^[1]

Lone as a vacant sepulchre,

Yet not alone! my Father's call—

Who marks the sparrow in her fall—

Attunes my ear to joys elate,

The joys I'll sing at Heaven's

Rumney, June 20, 1862.

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1. Byron's “Prisoner of Chillon,” when relating how the bird perched and sang upon the grating of his donjon, exclaims:

   “	I sometimes deem'd that it might be
   	My brother's soul come down to me;
   	But then at last away it flew,
   	And then 'twas mortal well I knew,
   	For he would never thus have flown,
   	And left me twice so doubly lone,
   	Lone as the corse within its shroud,
   	Lone as a solitary cloud,—” etc.