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544  ELIZA L. SPROAT.

Deepening to awful caverns and strange chasms;
Then breaking, softening, melting, till the sky
Grows dark, and deep, and clear, and a keen eye
Can almost reach to heaven, whence stepping forth
With their fresh glory on them, one by one
The great stars take their places; and poor Earth
Stands in the presence of the Universe.

THE PRISONER'S CHILD.

THE dull, chill prison building,
Oh, what a gloomy sight!
It wears in boldest morning
The coward scowl of night.
The warm, fresh light approaches
And shuddering turns away;
Within its shadow, looming foul,
No joysome thing will stay.
Yet there's a light within my cell,
A lovely light its walls enclose;
My happy child–my daughter pure–
My wild, wild rose.

The prison sounds are dreary
To one who hearts them long;
The murderer talking to himself,
The drunkard's crazy song.
My prison-door grates harshly,
It bodes the jailer's scowl;
The jailer's dog sleeps all the day,
To wake at night and howl.
Yet there is music in my cell,
And Joy's own voice its walls enclose;
My heaven-bird–my gladsome girl–
My wild, wild rose.

ELIZA L. SPROAT. 545

Her mellow, golden accents 
O'erflow the air around, 
As if the joyous sunshine 
Resolved itself to sound. 
She carols clear at morning, 
And prattles sweet at noon; 
She sings to rest the weary sun, 
And ringeth up the moon;
And when in sleep she visits home, 
(My daughter knows the angels well,)
She'll fearless rouse the awful night, 
Her happy dreams to tell. 

Oh, some have many treasures,
But other I have none; 
The dear Creator gave me 
My blessings all in one. 
The wealth of many jewels
Is garner'd in her eyes; 
The worth of many loving hearts 
Within her bosom lies; 
She's more to me than daily bread, 
And more to me than night's repose; 
My staff, my flower, my praise, my prayer–
My wild, wild rose. 

THE MOTHER AND CHILD. 
A MOTHER pray'd with her heart alone,
For her lips made ne'er a sound; 
The angels came in her darken'd room, 
And waved their wings around. 
"Oh, Lord," she pray'd-"Thou Lord of might,
Oh, grant my darling Fame,
Among the nobles of the world,
To wear the noblest name. 
46*                   2K

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 16:16:35 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-30 09:05:34 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-30 10:43:00