“So like they seem’d in form and lineament, You might have deem’d her face its shadow gave To the clear mirror of a fountain’s wave; Only in this they differ’d; that, while one Was warm and radiant as the summer sun, The other’s smile had more a moonlight play, For many tears had wept its glow away; Yet was she fair; of loveliness so true, That time which faded, never could subdue; And though the sleeper, like a half blown rose, Show’d bright as angels in her soft repose, Though bluer veins ran through each snowy lid, Curtaining sweet eyes by long dark lashes hid— Eyes that as yet had never learnt to weep, But woke up smiling like a child from sleep;— Though fainter lines were pencill’d on the brow, Which cast soft shadow on the orbs below; Though deeper color flush’d her youthful cheek, In its smooth curve more joyous and less meek, And fuller seem’d the small and crimson mouth, With teeth like those that glitter in the south,— She had but youth’s superior brightness, such As the skill’d painter gives with flattering touch, When he would picture every lingering grace, Which once shone brighter in some copied face; And it was compliment when’er she smiled To say, ‘Thou’rt like thy mother, my fair child’.” Over such a child the mother hangs with devoted fondness, with sweet recollections of her infancy, and “of the change of time and tide Since Heaven first sent the blessing by her side,” and with mournful anticipations, of what would befall the fledged bird, when it should grow impatient of the nest. The child at length awakes— “And when her shadowy gaze Had lost the dazzled look of wild amaze,” she relates her dream to the mother. “Methought, oh! gentle mother, by thy side I dwelt no more as now, but through a wide And sweet world wander’d, nor even then alone; For ever in that dream’s soft light stood one,— I know not who,—yet most familiar seem’d The fond companionship of which I dream’d! A Brother’s love is but a name to me; A Father’s brighten’d not my infancy, To me in childhood’s years no stranger’s face Took from long habit friendship’s holy grace; My life hath still been lone, and needed not, Heaven knows, more perfect love than was my lot In thy dear heart; how dream’d I then, sweet Mother, Of any love but thine, who knew no other?” Dear little innocence! you have much to learn. Thy “shadow and herself” wander together by the “blue and boundless sea,” the shore is covered with flowers and “tangled underwood” and “sunny fern.” The ocean, “the floating nautilus,” the “pink-lipped” shells— “And many color’d weeds And long bulbous things like jasper beads,” and ships with “swelling sails unfurled,” dance before her in this delightful vision until—