BLIGHTED FRUITS. 206 



Not long before her eyes grew dim 



When death had seized her last, 

 She prayed more fervently for him 



Than when his brother past ; 

 The chastener bade her live to see 

 The last branch rifted from the tree. 



But many a night when he was dead 



Or was it but a dream ? 

 That vision of her boy's death bed 



So vivid it would seem 

 Again he fell asleep and smiled 

 And dying pointed to the child. 



NO. II. 

 BLIGHTED FRUITS. 



Gone 1 before a father's name 



Crowned his loved one's trying hour ; . 

 Blasted, as the promise came, 



W hile the fruit was yet in flower. 



There's a babe, but not her own, 



On the barren mother's breast ; 

 Weeps she o'er that smiling one 



In its stranger place of rest ? 



While her own, the unborn dead - 



Her's the buried from the womb, 

 Her's the wreck of hope betrayed, 



Her's an offering for the tomb. 



Like some earliest pledge of love 



To the Hebrew matron given, 

 Was a spirit called above, 



Was a Nazarite for Heaven 1 



EOS 



