May 84 On seeing through a window a Belle completing her Toilet for a Ball 86 To a Belle 88 FUGITIVE POETRY. THE SHUNAMITE.[A] It was a sultry day of summer time. The sun pour'd down upon the ripen'd grain With quivering heat, and the suspended leaves Hung motionless. The cattle on the hills Stood still, and the divided flock were all Laying their nostrils to the cooling roots, And the sky look'd like silver, and it seem'd As if the air had fainted, and the pulse Of nature had run down, and ceas'd to beat. 'Haste thee, my child!' the Syrian mother said, 'Thy father is athirst'--and from the depths Of the cool well under the leaning tree, She drew refreshing water, and with thoughts Of God's sweet goodness stirring at her heart, She bless'd her beautiful boy, and to his way Committed him. And he went lightly on, With his soft hands press'd closely to the cool Stone vessel, and his little naked feet Lifted with watchful care, and o'er the hills, And thro' the light green hollows, where the lambs Go for the tender grass, he kept his way, Wiling its distance with his simple thoughts, Till, in the wilderness of sheaves, with brows Throbbing with heat, he set his burden down. Childhood is restless ever, and the boy Stay'd not within the shadow of the tree, But with a joyous industry went forth Into the reapers' places, and bound up His tiny sheaves, and plaited cunningly The pliant withs out of the shining straw, Cheering their labor on, till they forgot The very weariness of their stooping toil In the beguiling of his earnest mirth. Presently he was silent, and his eye Closed as with dizzy pain, and with his hand Press'd hard upon his forehead, and his breast Heaving with the suppression of a cry, He uttered a faint murmur, and fell back Upon the loosen'd sheaf, insensible.