( 595 ) 



THE STAR-ENAMOURED. 



" WHO dwells among the stars, mammaso mild, so fair, and 



bright ? 



As o'er us, in the dusky sky, they shed their lovely light : 

 Methinks a gently-beaming eye in every ray I see, 

 A host of heavenly watchers set to guide and counsel me ! 



" This earth has many a flower, mamma, and many a valley sweet, 

 To balm the sense with fragrance pure, and rest the weary feet ; 

 And many a kindly face, mamma, we meet, as here we roam, 

 The kindest and the dearest still, the nearer to our home. 



" But oh ! mamma, I long to be a creature of the sky, 

 To shine and shine for ever more in yon bright place on high. 

 I long to be away away ! from this pale prison free, 

 To look a long long tearless look of endless love on thee ! 



" They say that angel-forms, mamma, amongst those stars are seen 

 In everlasting whiteness clad, in never-dying sheen ; 

 And kindly looks they send to all whose hearts with grief are riven, 

 A foretaste sweet of Faith's reward, when call'd to dwell in heaven ! 



" And might not I a child, mamma, become a little star, 

 And shed my looks of light and love from yonder fields afar? 

 You might not know my beams, mamma, but they would ever be 

 Directed, with a fervent glance, upon thy home and thee ! 



" Then let me go and pray, mamma, that I may soar away, 



And never lift my eyes again upon another day ! 



I long to be among the stars to feel their balmy light 



Oh ! let me go and pray, mamma; good night, a long good night!" 



The mother clasped her little child, and tenderly she said, 

 " Thou canst not be a star as yet, my gentle little maid ! 

 But when thy lovely life is o'er, and GOD shall call his own, 

 I trust that thou wilt be a star, the brightest round his throne ! 



" Thou canst not be a star as yet, for there is many a one 

 To whom thou art a light, my love, still shining softly on ; 

 And if thy lustre from this life should suddenly depart, 

 T would quench thy mother's hopes on earth, 'twould break thy 

 mother's heart ! " 



But still the little lady pined, and none might say her nay 

 Her soul was with the stars by night her heart the livelong day ; 

 And on her infant pillow, cold, they found the little maid, 

 In holy sleep, like angels' rest, all beautifully laid ! 



