Poems and Essays

by Joseph Howe


 

TO ELLEN.


 

My gentle child—my gentle child,
    I scarcely knew how dear
Thou wert, while in my arms you smiled,
    Or laughed and gambol’d near.

But now, that thou art far away,
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    And I am all alone,
I long to join you at your play,
    And catch each tender tone.

To hear you call “Papa!” once more,
    To dance you on my knee,
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Or hear your whispered “yes!” breathed o’er,
    The tales I’d tell to thee.

I long around my neck to feel
    Your little hands entwine,
And from your lips sweet kisses steal,
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    And pay you back with mine.

But many a vale and mountain wild,
    As here I sadly roam,
Divide me from my gentle child,
    And from my happy home.
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A thousand infant forms appear,
    Lit up by laughing eyes,
But still my Ellen is not here,
    And still her father sighs. [Page 113]

I see the happy parent fold
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    His darling to his breast;
But when shall I my babe behold,
    My beautiful and blest? [Page 114]