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136 THE HEALING OF THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS.
Her hair had been unbound, and falling loose
TO A CITY PIGEON.
Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove !
Thy daily visits have touch'd my love.
And my joy is high
Why dost thou sit on the heated eaves,
How canst thou bear
Thou alone of the feather'd race
And “ the gentle dove”
A holy gift is thine, sweet bird !
And thy glossy wings
It is no light chance. Thou art set apart,
I sometimes dream
Come then, ever, when daylight leaves The page I read, to my humble eaves, And wash thy breast in the hollow spout, And murmur thy low sweet music out !
I hear and see Lessons of Heaven, sweet bird, in thee !
ON A PICTURE OF A BEAUTIFUL BOY.
“ Thou who yet dost keep
A Boy! yet in his eye you trace
The watchfulness of riper years,
And in that tranquil gaze
Shadows of other days,