THE PET-NAME.

the name

Which from THEIR lips seemed a caress.

MISS MITFORD'S Dramatic Scenes.

I.

I HAVE a name, a little name,
Uncadenced for the ear,

Unhonoured by ancestral claim,
Unsanctified by prayer and psalm
The solemn font anear.

II.

It never did to pages wove
For gay romance belong;
It never dedicate did move
As 'Sacharissa,' unto love,
'Orinda,' unto song.

III.

Though I write books, it will be read
Upon the leaves of none,

And afterward, when I am dead,

Will ne'er be graved for sight or tread,

Across my funeral-stone.

IV.

This name, whoever chance to call,
Perhaps your smile may win:
Nay, do not smile! mine eyelids fall
Over mine eyes and feel withal

The sudden tears within.

V.

Is there a leaf that greenly grows
Where summer meadows bloom,
But gathereth the winter snows
And changeth to the hue of those,
If lasting till they come?

VI.

Is there a word, or jest, or game,

But time incrusteth round

With sad associate thoughts the same?

And so to me my very name

Assumes a mournful sound.

VII.

My brother gave that name to me
When we were children twain,
When names acquired baptismally
Were hard to utter, as to see

That life had any pain.

VIII.

No shade was on us then, save one

Of chestnuts from the hill;

And through the word our laugh did run As part thereof: the mirth being done, He calls me by it still.

IX.

Nay, do not smile! I hear in it
What none of you can hear,—

The talk upon the willow seat,
The bird and wind that did repeat
Around, our human cheer.

X.

I hear the birthday's noisy bliss,
My sisters' woodland glee,

My father's praise, I did not miss,
When stooping down he cared to kiss

The poet at his knee,

XI.

And voices which, to name me, aye
Their tenderest tones were keeping-

To some I never more can say
An answer till God wipes away

In heaven these drops of weeping.

XII.

My name to me a sadness wears ⚫
No murmurs cross my mind-

Now God be thanked for these thick tears
Which show, of those departed years,
Sweet memories left behind.

XIII.

Now God be thanked for years enwrought
With love which softens yet:

Now God be thanked for every thought
Which is so tender it has caught

Earth's guerdon of regret.

XIV.

Earth saddens, never shall remove
Affections purely given;

And e'en that mortal grief shall prove
The immortality of love,

And heighten it with Heaven.

THE MOURNING MOTHER.

(OF THE DEAD BLIND.)

141

I.

Dost thou weep, mourning mother,
For thy blind boy in grave?
That no more with each other,
Sweet counsel ye can have?
That he, left dark by nature,
Can never more be led
By thee, maternal creature,
Along smooth paths instead?

That thou canst no more show him

The sunshine, by the heat;

The river's silver flowing,

By murmurs at his feet?

The foliage, by its coolness;
The roses, by their smell;
And all creation's fulness,
By Love's invisible ?
Weepest thou to behold not

His meek blind eyes again,—

Closed doorways which were folded, And prayed against in vain—