Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/276

Rh So, with a leaf of olive in her mouth, Sole fruit of her drear voyage, which, perchance, Upon some wrecking billow floated by, With drooping wing the peaceful Ark she sought. The righteous man that wandering dove received, And to her mate restored, who, with sad moans, Had wondered at her absence. Then I looked Upon the child, to see if her young thought Wearied with following mine. But her blue eye Was a glad listener, and the eager breath Of pleased attention curled her parted lip. And so I told her how the waters dried, And the green branches waved, and the sweet buds Came up in loveliness, and that meek dove Went forth to build her nest, while thousand birds Awoke their songs of praise, and the tired Ark Upon the breezy breast of Ararat Reposed, and Noah, with glad spirit, reared An altar to his God. Since, many a time, When to her rest, ere evening's earliest star, That little one is laid, with earnest tone, And pure cheek prest to mine, she fondly asks "The Ark and Dove." Mothers can tell how oft In the heart's eloquence, the prayer goes up From a sealed lip, and tenderly hath blent With the warm teaching of the sacred tale A voiceless wish, that when that timid soul, New in the rosy mesh of infancy, Fast bound, shall dare the billows of the world, Like that exploring Dove, and find no rest, A pierced, a pitying, a redeeming Hand May gently guide it to the Ark of peace.