Frail Lucia of a mutual love...

Frail Lucia of a mutual love!

Fair little wingèd cooing dove,

Thou'st fluttered down from thy far dovecote,

Awhile to nestle in earth's sweet grove.

Would it were sweeter, child, for thee —

Sweet as the silver-breaking sea

( When Indian summer broods upon it )

Doth flute and fife to the golden tree!

Thine angel listens for thy breath

Whene'er he hears the wings of death,

Looks in the Father's face and prayeth —

“For earth's sake spare her,” he softly saith.