Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir 1828.pdf/2



" child, my child, thou leav'st me!—I shall hear The gentle voice no more that blessed mine ear With its first utterance:—I shall miss the sound Of thy light footstep, midst the flowers around, And thy soft–breathing hymn at evening's close, And thy 'Good-night,' at parting for repose. Under the vine-leaves I shall sit alone, And the low breeze will have a mournful tone Among their tendrils, while I think of thee, My child!—and thou, along the moonlight sea, With a soft sadness haply in thy glance, Shalt watch thine own, thy pleasant land of France Fading to air! Yet blessings with thee go— Love guard thee, gentlest! and the exile's woe From thy young heart be far!—And sorrow not For me, sweet daughter, in my lonely lot God will be with me! Now farewell, farewell, Thou that hast been what words may never tell Unto thy mother's bosom, since the days When thou wert pillowed there; and wont to raise