





The ight-Share. 
Anon, 
| eee aside from my starry bloom } 
| I am the nurse, who feeds the tomb 
(The tomb, my child) 
With dainties piled, 
Until it grows strong as a tempest wild! 


Trample not on a virgin flower ! 
T am the maid of the midnight hour ; 
I bear sweet sleep, 
To those who weep, 
And lie on their eyelids dark and deep. ) 
Tread not thou on my snaky eyes! 
Tam the worm that the weary prize, 
The Nile’s soft asp, 
That they strive to grasp, 
And one that a Queen has loved to clasp ! 







