Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1860-06-12
POETRY.

s
From the Southern Literary Messenger.
Little Luly.
She sits in her chair in the chamber,
A minnikin moody and mild,
And old people seemed to be puzzled
At seeing our serious child,
She rocks to the hymn she is humming,
And gloomily fixes her gaze
On figures that fash in the freight,
And float in the fanciful blaze.
To birds in the parlor she prattles-
The painted birds up on the wall,
And spreads for them daily such dainties
AS berries and water for all.
Then closing the door very gently,
She takes at the key-hole peep,
She says they are eating and drinking,
She saw them so once in her sleep.
She lolls ON the floor by the fender,
And gives the Old Lion hug
The Old Lion woven in worsted-
That lies on the new parlor rug,
She pats him and calls him 'tOld Fellow"
And tells us she saw him on guard,
At the gate for the bug g-a-boos coming
One night when twas showing so hard.
She cuts up her calico pieces
And sews on her curious things,
And working her whimsical patterns,
She sits by the seamstress and sings.
Her babies have all pretty names too,
She dresses them up every day,
And each has its place and plaything,
And each its particular play.
When sometimes she gives them party,
The Chess-men are bid to the "hall,"
The Kings and the Queens and the Bishops
Are brought to the Baby house Ball,
The Knight never goes in the parlor.
But stands on the outside, of course,
The ladies expressing-says Luly-
Regrets that he can't leave his horse.
When supper comes up in the evening,
She works with farcial zest,
And keeps up the party quite gaiiy
By talking for Hostess and Guest.
The King at the head of the table,
The Queen at the opposite place,
All standing in stateliest order
She makes the Old Bishop say grace.
My Lulv had lost a young playmate,
The last ofa lingering race,
We carried her down to the cedars,
The bosky old burial place.
She clupg to me closer that evening,
Said Father when Lulv shall die,
Don't cover her up in the graveyard,
To keep her away from the sky"
1 told her the grave was Gods garden,
To plant out His prettiest flowers,
That thence they were moved in His mercy.
To bloom IN His beautiful bowers.
The blossoms He buries in winter,
And covers in snow from the rold,
So like the shroud wrapped around Cary,
The sunlight of Spring will unfold;
That even the loveliest lilly,
That lolled on the LATEST wave,
In winter-time buries its beauty,
And blooms again blanched in the grave.
A smile in her pretty eyes played then,
A moment forgetting her pain.
The tears seemed to sparkle with gladness,
Like sunshine when streaming thro' rain,
She said she was dreaming so so'sweetIy,
Last night in her nice little bed,
That standing on clouds in the starlight,
The heavens were touching her head.
That then came the dear little Cary,
But only to kiss through the blue,
As oft at the pane in the window
Your Luly plays kissing with you.
1 asked her chow Cary had entered?"
She said, with her serious air
s'The moon, suppose, did just open,
And God carried Garry through there"
Oh, Luly, my dear little angel,
God grant that we both may be blest.
That the moon which has opened for Cary
May soon roll away for the rest.
thank thee, o Father of Heaven,
Because from the rrudent and wise.
Thou hidest those things thou revealest
To babes with their heavenly guise.
Him who is invisible seeing,
They walk in glorious light,
And even so let it be, Father,
For so it seems good IN Thy sight.