Classic Poem

She rose from her untroubled sleep,
— And put away her soft brown hair,
And, in a tone as low and deep
— As love's first whisper, breathed a prayer —
Her snow-white hands together pressed,
— Her blue eyes sheltered in the lid,
The folded linen on her breast,
— Just swelling with the charms it hid;

And from her long and flowing dress
— Escaped a bare and slender foot,
Whose shape upon the earth did press
— Like a new snow-flake, white and " mute " ;
And there, from slumber pure and warm,
— Like a young spirit fresh from heaven,
She bowed her slight and graceful form,
— And humbly prayed to be forgiven.

Oh God! if souls unsoiled as these
— Need daily mercy from Thy throne;
If she upon her bended knees,
— Our loveliest and our purest one, —
She, with a face so clear and bright,
We deem her some stray child of light; —
If she, with those soft eyes in tears,
Day after day in her first years,
— Must kneel and pray for grace from Thee,
— What far, far deeper need have we!
How hardly, if she win not heaven,
Will our wild errors be forgiven!