"HE HAS COME BACK."
WITHOUT, the wintry sky is overcast : The floods descend—fierce hail and rushing rain ; Whilst ever and anon the raving blast Clutches the casement pane.
Within, our darling beats an angrier air With piteous outstretched arms and tossing head ; Whilst we, bowed low beside his labouring bed, Pour all our hearts in prayer.
Is this the end ? The tired little hands Fall by his side, the wild eyes close at last,— Breathless he sinks ; almost we hear his sands Of being ebbing past.
When, oh miraculous ! he wakes once more, Love glowing in his gaze, the while there slips, "Mother, dear mother !" from his trembling lips, " Dear mother I" o'er and o'er.
He has come back, our little fairy child, Back from his wanderings in the dreadful dark, Back o'er the furious surge of frenzy wild, The lost dove of our Ark ; Back, feebly back o'er the dire flood's decrease His white wings flutter, only our God knows how, Bearing aloft the blessed olive bough Of His compassionate peace. A. P. G.
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