THE VIRGIN MARY.
"A weary weed, tossed to and fro,
Drearily drenched in the ocean brine,
Soaring high and sinking low,
Lashed along without will of mine;
Sport of the spoom of the surging sea;
Flung on the foam, afar and near,
Mark my manifold mystery––
Growth and grace in their place appear."
With the boy clasped to his
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