“One look upon thy face ere thou depart! My daughter! it is soon to let thee go! My daughter! with thy birth has gushed a spring I knew not of—filling my heart with tears, And turning with strange tenderness to thee— A love, O God! it seems so—that must flow Far as thou fleest, and wrap my soul and thee. Henceforth thy love must be a yearning charm Drawing me after thee. And so farewell!”—WILLIS. The windows were all open, but shaded fold after fold with muslin transparent as dew drops, and snowy as the drifts of a summer cloud. The floor was spread with East India matting, and in a corner of a chamber stood a couch shaded with clouds of delicate lace and clad in snow white even to the floo…
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