Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/209

Rh

"The scene is the sea-shore,—a storm has suddenly come up,—the company are all running for shelter,—the little child is forgotten,—and as innocence knows no fear, continues to play with the waves, as they break over its feet."

dost thou sport amid these swelling waves, Child of the frolic brow? The billows roll Foaming and vexing with a maniac's wrath, To do unuttered deeds,—and the wild clouds Muster and frown, as if bold Midnight reared Her throne at noonday. Hearest thou not the winds Uttering their ruffian threats? Is this a time To lave that snowy foot? Away! Away! —What! have all fled?—and art thou left alone By those who wandered with thee on the beach In the fair sun-light of a summer s morn? Forgotten thus! Hadst thou a mother,—sweet? Oh!—no—no—no. She had not turned away Though the strong tempest swelled to tenfold wrath,— She had not fled without thee, had not breathed In safety or at ease, save when she heard Thy murmured tone beside her,—had not slept Until thy drenched and drooping curls were dried In her fond bosom. Nature never made A mother to forget. Why, she had dared Yon fiercest surge to save thee, or had plunged, Clasping thee close and closer, down, down, down, Where thou art going. Lo, the breakers rush Bellowing to demand thee. Shrink not child!