SONNET.

TO A YOUNG INVALID ABROAD.

Health unto thee! ’Twill come, though coy and slow:

Thou canst not die, before I cease to live.

Are we not one? Ay, brother, boughs that give

Their verdure from one trunk, and cannot know

A life-drop but from thence? The topmost bough

Still withers first: whilst mine is green on high,

I feel—and fear not—that thou canst not die!

Would that my life’s blood, warm and healthful now,

Were welling in thy veins—and I like thee!

’Twere joy to suffer for thee, could I hear

Thy light laugh, as of old, ring in my ear:

So thou wert happy what aught else to me?

An angel-ward our mother’s prayers have set

Around thee. Courage then! Thou’lt kiss her pale cheek yet!

C.

Philadelphia, April 1847.

Painted by Fanny Corbourn Engraved by A. L. Dick

MIRIAM.

Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine.