First Lines of Theodore Tilton
A Brahmin on a lotus podA paduan Minorite lay deathly sick,And if we would speak true,As other men have creeds, so I have:Baby Bye,Good bishop, prithee, listen to my tale!I leaned upon a burial urn,I once made search, in hope to findI see the star-lights quiver,I watched her at her spinning,I weave a tale of old and new;Knight, sir, from the Holy LandMaltby Chapel, as you know,My friend (mark, only friend, and nothing more),O loitering ship!O maiden, I who, many miles away,O Thou by whom the lost are found,O true and noble friend! -- (too far away:Once in Persia reigned a King,One Sabbath morn I roamed astray,Our night has vanished like a dream;Red Cypress! Thee I pluck to-day.She died -- yet is not dead!The story, as I heard it told,The works of God are fair for noughtThese roses, planted on her grave, have blown:This golden legend first was toldThis spot is where we parted; and I thinkThou who ordainest, for the land's salvation,Thy head was crowned with thorns:Toll! Roland, toll!Two kittens grew hungry with licking their feet,We gathered roses, Blanche and I, for little Madge one morning:We sing a song, and then we part!With eager arms a mother pressed