Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/570

 554 HELEN L. BOSTWICK. [1850-60. Somewhere there is a spot of ground, Streamed across a pillow white, Now, haply, green and blooming, Quivered o'er a little head. Whereon, ere long, a withered mound Where the cliestnut hair was bright, Shall rise from my entombing. Long, and soft, and ringleted. Somewhere there waits a vacant stone, Perchance unhewn, unbroken, Lulie lay beside me there. To be my name and age alone. And the rose-light as I gazed, And crave Love's tearful token. Bathed the dimpled shoulders bare, Tinged the velvet cheek upraised. Somewhere there is a robe more bright Than this my spirit weareth, But the soul's sweet curtains, drawn. No sin-spot stains its perfect white. Stirred not, ope'd not, as I wept ; Nor shade of grief it beareth. And I knew my lamb had gone Somewhere — I know not — none can see With the Shepherd while I slept. Beyond Death's hurrying river My Father keeps a place for me Safe in His house — forever! Lulie's grave is green and gay. But our fields are bare and cold ; Who would call my lamb away From the shelter of the Fold ? LULIE. Fkom a meadow sloping West, Full of April lambs at play, WITHIN THE URN. Came one, whiter than the rest, God gave me many a goodly gift ; From its merry mates away. A sense to feel, an eye to know All forms of Beauty, that uplift Came beside me — so I dreamed, The soul from things below. And I marked its lifted eye Had a pleading look, that seemed He gave me ready brain to plan — Full of strange humanity ; Hands apt enough its will to do — A heart of reverent faith in man — As I bowed with fond caress Kindred, and way-mates true. Toward the lonely lambkin strayed (Full of painful tenderness Whose voices cheered the darksome days; Half 1 felt, and half afraid) ; A cross to kneel by, and the care Of little feet, whose wandering ways Roses on its neck I found. Kept mine from many a snare. And 1 knew tliem drooping there, For the roses that I bound And midst these blessings lent and given. Yester-morn in Lulie's hair. Of those who could be friends to me, Trembling, calling Lulie's name With a faint and fearful call, As angels breathe the word in Heaven, He gave me two or three. Woke I then, as morning's Hame No more ! Ah, I could never learn Kindled on my chamber wall. To draw Life's ravishing nectar up