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And thus thy soul shall learn to draw
Where all is good. And life is good,
LITTLE changeling spirit
Crept to my arms one day:
So all day long I soothed her,
And all night long her wailing
I dug a grave to hold her,
I covered her with violets,
I used to go and watch there,
It was my tears, I fancy,
I took her up: and once more
I felt the clinging hold,
That wearied me of old.
I wandered, and I wandered,
Till I saw a church-door open,
In the dim, dying daylight,
Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the Virgin Mother
Holding her Child divine.
I knelt down there in silence,
And on the Altar-stone I laid my wailing burden,
And came away—alone.
And now that little spirit,
That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel,
With wings both wide and strong.
She watches me from Heaven, With loving, tender care,
And one day she has promised That I shall find her there.
HERE the little babbling streamlet First springs forth to light, Trickling through soft velvet mosses, Almost hid from sight; Vowed I with delight,— "River, I will follow thee, Through thy wanderings to the Sea!"
Gleaming 'mid the purple heather,
Downward then it sped,
Like a silver thread,
As it quicker fled,
Then its voice grew lower, gentler,