CHILD LEFT IN A STORM.
Adapted to a painting of Sully.
"The scene is the sea-shore,—a storm has suddenly come up,—the company are all running for shelter,—the little child is forgotten,—and as innocence knows no fear, continues to play with the waves, as they break over its feet."
Why dost thou sport amid these swelling waves,
Child of the frolic brow? The billows roll
Foaming and vexing with a maniac's wrath,
To do unuttered deeds,—and the wild clouds
Muster and frown, as if bold Midnight reared
Her throne at noonday. Hearest thou not the winds
Uttering their ruffian threats? Is this a time
To lave that snowy foot? Away! Away!
—What! have all fled?—and art thou left alone
By those who wandered with thee on the beach
In the fair sun-light of a summer s morn?
Forgotten thus! Hadst thou a mother,—sweet?
Oh!—no—no—no. She had not turned away
Though the strong tempest swelled to tenfold wrath,—
She had not fled without thee, had not breathed
In safety or at ease, save when she heard
Thy murmured tone beside her,—had not slept
Until thy drenched and drooping curls were dried
In her fond bosom. Nature never made
A mother to forget. Why, she had dared
Yon fiercest surge to save thee, or had plunged,
Clasping thee close and closer, down, down, down,
Where thou art going.
Lo, the breakers rush
Bellowing to demand thee. Shrink not child!
