A LITTLE changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day: I had no heart or courage To drive the child away. So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest. I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep; I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep. I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too: -- It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue, I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old. I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest. In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the Virgin Mother Holding her Child divine. I knelt down there in silence, And on the altar-stone I laid my wailing burden, And came away -- alone. And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel, With wings both wide and strong. She watches me from Heaven With loving, tender care, And one day she has promised That I shall find her there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 3: 34. MUTABILITY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH IN THE CATACOMBS by HARLAN HOUSE BALLARD |