Him never saw I, nor the spot; but from an English Dame, 5 Stranger to me and yet my friend, a simple notice came, With suit that I would speak in verse of that sequestered child Whom, one bleak winter’s day, she met upon the dreary Wild. His flock, along the woodland’s edge with relics sprinkled o’er Of last night’s snow, beneath a sky threatening the fall of more, 10 Where tufts of herbage tempted each, were busy at their feed, And the poor Boy was busier still, with work of anxious heed. There _was_ he, where of branches rent and withered and decayed, For covert from the keen north wind, his hands a hut had made. A tiny tenement, forsooth, and frail, as needs must be 15 A thing of such materials framed, by a builder such as he. The hut stood finished by his pains, nor seemingly lacked aught That skill or means of his could add, but the architect had wrought Some limber twigs into a Cross, well-shaped with fingers nice, To be engrafted on the top of his small edifice. 20 That Cross he now was fastening there, as the surest power and best For supplying all deficiencies, all wants of the rude nest In which, from burning heat, or tempest driving far and wide, The innocent Boy, else shelterless, his lonely head must hide. That Cross belike he also raised as a standard for the true 25 And faithful service of his heart in the worst that might ensue Of hardship and distressful fear, amid the houseless waste Where he, in his poor self so weak, by Providence was placed. ----Here, Lady! might I cease; but nay, let _us_ before we part With this dear holy shepherd-boy breathe a prayer of earnest heart, 30 That unto him, where’er shall lie his life’s appointed way, The Cross, fixed in his soul, may prove an all-sufficing stay. THE POET’S DREAM[227] SEQUEL TO THE NORMAN BOY Published 1842 One of the “Poems referring to the Period of Childhood.”--ED. Just as those final words were penned, the sun broke out in power, And gladdened all things; but, as chanced, within that very hour, Air blackened, thunder growled, fire flashed from clouds that hid the sky, And, for the Subject of my Verse, I heaved a pensive sigh. Nor could my heart by second thoughts from heaviness be cleared, 5 For bodied forth before my eyes the cross-crowned hut appeared; And, while around it storm as fierce seemed troubling earth and air, I saw, within, the Norman Boy kneeling alone in prayer. The Child, as if the thunder’s voice spake with articulate call, Bowed meekly in submissive fear, before the Lord of All; 10 His lips were moving; and his eyes, upraised to sue for grace, With soft illumination cheered the dimness of that place.