The night came on alone: The little stars sat, one by one, Each on his golden throne; The evening wind passed by my cneek, The leaves above were stirred ; But the beating of my own heart Fast silent tears were flowing, For the beating of our own hearts RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES. 51 LITTLE BELL. He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. "THE ANCIENT MARINER." PIPED the blackbird on the beechwood spray: "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What's your name?" quoth he; "What's your name? O stop, and straight unfola, Pretty maid with showery curls of gold." "Little Bell," said she. Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, 66 Bonny bird," quoth she, "Sing me your best song before I go." "Here's the very finest song I know, Little Bell," said he. And the blackbird piped; you never heard Full of quips and wiles: Now so round and rich, now soft and slow; All for love of that sweet face below, Dimpled o'er with smiles. LITTLE BELL. And the while the bonny bird did pour His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er, 'Neath the morning skies, In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow, From the blue, bright eyes. Down the dell she tripped, and through the glade; And from out the tree Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear; While bold blackbird piped that all might hear, "Little Bell!" piped he. Little Bell sat down amid the fern; 66 Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return : Up, away the frisky squirrel hies, Golden wood-lights glancing in his eyes, Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun, Hark, how blackbird pipes to see the fun' 66 Happy Bell!" pipes he. Little Bell looked up and down the glade: 66 Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid, Come and share with me!" Down came squirrel, eager for his fare, 53 54 LITTLE BELL. Little Bell gave each his honest share: And the while these frolic playmates twain In the little childish heart below All the sweetness seemed to grow and And shine out in happy overflow, From the blue, bright eyes. grow, By her snow-white cot at close of day, Very calm and clear Rose the praying voice to where, unseen, In blue heaven, an angel shape serene "What good child is this," the angel said, Low and soft, O very low and soft! Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft: "Bell, dear Bell!" crooned he. "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair Folded safe from harm. Love deep and kind |