He who set Abraham's daughter free,
Loose her from her infirmity.
Soon as the worshippers arise,
The glad child to the window flies,
And, leaning through the open sash,
Watches the billows' foamy dash,
But, most of all, the evening sky,
That seldom glows so ruddily
Around the chill and misty isle,
Though warmed by summer's softest smile,
A growing wonder shades the joy
Spread o'er the features of the boy.
"O, grandpapa ! now tell me, pray,
Who takes the golden sun away,
And keeps it from us all the night ?
And what makes yonder sky so bright ?"
As moved by some lost memory,
The old man smiled, then on his knee