THE CONFESSION.

“Father—Father—I confess— Here he kneeled and sighed, When the moon’s soft loveliness Slept on turf and tide. In my ear the prayer he prayed Seems to echo yet; But the answer that I made— Father—I forget! Ora pro me! “Father—Father—I confess— Precious gifts he brought; Satin sandal, silken dress; Richer ne’er were wrought; Gems that make the daylight dim, Plumes in gay gold set;— But the gaud I gave to him— Father—I forget! Ora pro me! “Father—Father—I confess— He’s my beauty’s thrall, In the lonely wilderness, In the festive hall; All his dreams are aye of me, Since our young hearts met; What my own may sometimes be— Father—I forget! Ora pro me!”