Sta.

Three happy children in a darkened room!     What do they gaze on with wide-open eyes?     A dense, dense forest, where no sunbeam pries,     And in its centre a cleared spot.--There bloom     Gigantic flowers on creepers that embrace     Tall trees; there, in a quiet lucid lake     The white swans glide; there, "whirring from the brake,"     The peacock springs; there, herds of wild deer race;     There, patches gleam with yellow waving grain;     There, blue smoke from strange altars rises light,     There, dwells in peace, the poet-anchorite.     But who is this fair lady? Not in vain     She weeps,--for lo! at every tear she sheds     Tears from three pairs of young eyes fall amain,     And bowed in sorrow are the three young heads.     It is an old, old story, and the lay     Which has evoked sad Sta from the past     Is by a mother sung.... 'Tis hushed at last     And melts the picture from their sight away,     Yet shall they dream of it until the day!     When shall those children by their mother's side     Gather, ah me! as erst at eventide?