CATECHISING

From Little down to Least, in due degree,

Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest,

Each with a vernal posy at his breast,

We stood, a trembling, earnest Company!

With low soft murmur, like a distant bee,

Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed;

And some a bold unerring answer made:

How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me,

Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand

Had bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie:

Sweet flowers! at whose inaudible command

Her countenance, phantom-like, doth re-appear:

O lost too early for the frequent tear,

And ill requited by this heartfelt sigh!