Excerpt from Achmet's Feast, and Other Poems Thy smile to me was hope; thy shrine My worship; from those lips of thine, First did I hear the notes of love, Speak to me of a God above. And in my simple Childhood's prayer, Sweet mother, kneeling at thy chair, My lisping voice would faltering raise, The infant's uttering notes of praise. Who told thy wondering child of death And the great Lord of Nazareth, Who suffered on the cross, to save The soul of man beyond the grave? I listen'd, and my little brain, Reverberated thy words again. I could not think that smiling eye, That kindly loving face could die, And every glowing feature set Clammy and cold; I knew not yet. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work.

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