CHILD LEFT ON THE SEA-SHORE.

Why dost thou sport amid those swelling waves, Child of the frolic brow? The billows rush Foaming and vexing with a maniac's wrath, To do unuttered deeds, and the wild clouds Muster and frown, as if bold midnight rear'd Her throne at noon-day. Hear'st 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! Had'st thou a mother, sweet? Oh, no—no—no! She had not turn'd away, Though the strong tempest rose to tenfold wrath,— She had not fled without thee,—had not breath'd In safety or at ease save when she heard Thy murmur'd tone beside her,—had not slept Until thy drench'd 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 plung'd, Clasping thee close and closer, down,—down,—down,— Where thou art going. Lo! the breakers rush Bellowing, to demand thee. Shrink not, child! Innocence need not fear. Sweet shalt thou sleep 'Mid ocean's sunless flowers. The lullaby Of the mermaiden shall thy requiem be, And the white coral thou didst love to mix Among thy pencill'd shells, shall lightly rear A canopy above thee. Amber drops Shall gem thy clustering tresses, and thy ear No more the echoes of the wavering main Appall'd shall hear. Thy God shall guard thy rest. L. H. S. Hartford.