THE LOST PET

When Mary's brother went to sea, He lingered near the door, Beside the old, familiar tree, He ne'er had left before, And though gay boyhood loves to seek New regions where to tread, A pearl-drop glittered on his cheek As tenderly he said— "The gentle dove I reared with care, Sister, I leave to thee, And let it thy protection share When I am far at sea." Whene'er for Willy's loss she grieved, His darling she caressed, That from her hand its food received, Or nestled in her breast; And sometimes, at the twilight dim, When blossoms bow to sleep, She thought it murmuring asked for him Whose home was on the deep. And if her mother's smile of joy Was lost in anxious thought, As memories of her sailor-boy Some gathering tempest wrought, She showed his pet, the cooing dove, Perched on her sheltering arm, And felt how innocence and love Can rising wo disarm. When summer decked the leafy bowers, And pranked the russet plain, She bore his cage where breathing flowers Inspired a tuneful strain; And now and then, through open door, Indulged a wish to roam, Though soon, the brief excursion o'er, The wanderer sought its home. She laughed to see it brush the dew From bough and budding spray. And deemed its snow-white plumage grew More beauteous, day by day. The rose of June was in its flush, And 'neath the fragrant shade Of her own fullest, fairest bush The favorite's house was staid, While roving, bird-like, here and there, Amid her flow'rets dear, She culled a nosegay, rich and rare, A mother's heart to cheer. A shriek! A flutter! Swift as thought Her startled footstep flew, But full of horror was the sight That met her eager view— Her treasure in a murderer's jaws! One of that feline race Whose wily looks and velvet paws Conceal their purpose base. And scarce the victim's gushing breast Heaved with one feeble breath, Though raised to hers, its glance exprest Affection even in death. Oh, stricken child! though future years May frown with heavier shade, When woman's lot of love and tears Is on thy spirit laid— Yet never can a wilder cry Thy heart-wrung anguish prove Than when before thy swimming eye Expired that wounded dove.