A Changeling.

A little changeling Spirit Crept to my arms one day. I had no heart or courage To drive the child away. So all day long I soothed her And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest. I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep: I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep. I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too; It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue. I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old. I wandered and I wandered With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church door open, And entered in to rest. In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the kings and shepherds Adore a Child divine. I knelt down there in silence; And on the Altar-stone I laid my wailing burden, And came away,—alone. And now that little Spirit That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel, With wings both wide and strong. She watches me from heaven, With loving, tender care, And one day, she has promised That I shall find her there. A. A. P.