Her cherished infant at the gate.
Soothing the pilgrim as he goes.
While the sun’s gone to come again.
From my odorous lips of rose.
In verdant glades of Faery.
Far from the busy haunts of men.
Kindling the water ‘long the side.
As of ocean hamm’ring at night on the shore.
Of the enemy with the vivid blaze.
Strewing flowers under thy head.
Ruffle the shadow of the palm.
And the glow of the August dies not away.
Or a little lass lulled on the breast of her mother.
Beautiful! beautiful! hasten to me!
Over thee sunlight that sets not shall shine.
The child rose to Heaven.