Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/97



Y harp is on the willow-tree,

Else would I sing, O love, to thee

A song of long-ago—

Perchance the song that Miriam sung

Ere yet Judea's heart was wrung

By centuries of woe.

I ate my crust in tears to-day,

As scourged I went upon my way—

And yet my darling smiled;

Aye, beating at my breast, he laughed—

My anguish curdled not the draught—

'Twas sweet with love, my child!

The shadow of the centuries lies

Deep in thy dark and mournful eyes;

But, hush! and close them now,

And in the dreams that thou shalt dream

The light of other days shall seem

To glorify thy brow!