XXVII

       “O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert,
       Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men
       Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart
       Dare the unpastur’d dragon in his den?
       Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then
       Wisdom the mirror’d shield, or scorn the spear?
       Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when
       Thy spirit should have fill’d its crescent sphere,
The monsters of life’s waste had fled from thee like deer.

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