VERSE: A CHANGELING

A little changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day: I had no heart or courage To drive the child away.

So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest.

I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep; I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep.

I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too:- It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue.

I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old.

I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest.

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 wines 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.