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THE LOST LAMB.

BY DELTA.

    A shepherd laid upon his bed,
    With many a sigh, his aching head,
    For him—­his favourite boy—­on whom
    Had fallen death, a sudden doom. 
    “But yesterday,” with sobs he cried,
    “Thou wert, with sweet looks, at my side,
    Life’s loveliest blossom, and to-day,
    Woes me! thou liest a thing of clay! 
    It cannot be that thou art gone;
    It cannot be, that now, alone,
    A grey-hair’d man on earth am I,
    Whilst thou within its bosom lie? 
    Methinks I see thee smiling there,
    With beaming eyes, and sunny hair,
    As thou were wont, when fondling me,
    To clasp my neck from off my knee! 
    Was it thy voice?  Again, oh speak,
    My boy, or else my heart will break!”

    Each adding to that father’s woes,
    A thousand bygone scenes arose;
    At home—­a field—­each with its joy,
    Each with its smile—­and all his boy! 
    Now swell’d his proud rebellious breast,
    With darkness and with doubt opprest;
    Now sank despondent, while amain
    Unnerving tears fell down like rain: 
    Air—­air—­he breathed, yet wanted breath—­
    It was not life—­it was not death—­
    But the drear agony between,
    Where all is heard, and felt, and seen—­
    The wheels of action set ajar;
    The body with the soul at war. 
    ’Twas vain, ’twas vain; he could not find
    A haven for his shipwreck’d mind;
    Sleep shunn’d his pillow.  Forth he went—­
    The noon from midnight’s azure tent
    Shone down, and, with serenest light,
    Flooded the windless plains of night;
    The lake in its clear mirror show’d
    Each little star that twinkling glow’d;
    Aspens, that quiver with a breath,
    Were stirless in that hush of death;
    The birds were nestled in their bowers;
    The dewdrops glitter’d on the flowers;
    Almost it seem’d as pitying Heaven
    A while its sinless calm had given
    To lower regions, lest despair
    Should make abode for ever there;
    So tranquil—­so serene—­so bright—­
    Brooded o’er earth the wings of night.

    O’ershadow’d by its ancient yew,
    His sheep-cot met the shepherd’s view;
    And, placid, in that calm profound,
    His silent flocks lay slumbering round: 
    With flowing mantle, by his side,
    Sudden, a stranger he espied,
    Bland was his visage, and his voice
    Soften’d the heart, yet bade rejoice.—­
    “Why is thy mourning thus?” he said,
    “Why thus doth sorrow bow thy head? 
    Why faltereth thus thy faith, that so
    Abroad despairing thou dost go? 
    As if the God who gave thee breath,
    Held not the keys of life and death! 
    When from the flocks that