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Sometimes then a stronger anguish, and more cruel,

weighed upon her,

That through all those years of waiting, he had

slowly learnt the truth;

He had known himself mistaken, but that, bound to her in honour,

He renounced his life, to pay her for the patience of her youth.

But a star was slowly rising from that mist of grief, and brighter

Grew her

eyes, for each slow hour surer comfort seemed to bring;

And she watched with strange sad smiling, how her trembling hands grew slighter,

And how thin her slender finger, and how large her wedding-ring.

And the tears dropped slowly on it, as she kissed that golden token

With a deeper love, it may be, than was in the

far-off past;

And remembering Philip's fancy, that so long ago

was spoken,

Thought her Ring's bright angel guardian had stayed near her to the last.

Grieving sorely, grieving truly, with a tender care and sorrow,

Philip watched the slow, sure fading of his gentle

patient wife;

Could he guess with what a yearning she was longing for the morrow,

Could he guess the bitter knowledge that had

wearied her of life?

Now with violets strewn upon her, Mildred lies in peaceful sleeping;

All unbound her long, bright tresses, and her

throbbing heart at rest,

And the cold, blue rays of moonlight, through the open casement creeping,

Show the ring upon her finger, and her hands

crossed on her breast.

Peace at last.

Of peace eternal is her calm sweet smile a token.

Has some angel lingering near her let a radiant

promise fall?

Has he told her Heaven unites again the links that Earth has broken?

For on Earth so much is needed, but in Heaven

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BORROWED THOUGHTS.

I. FROM "LAVATER."

RUST him little who doth raise

To one height both great and small, And sets the sacred crown of praise, Smiling, on the head of all.

Trust him less who looks around
To censure all with scornful eyes,

And in everything has found
Something that he dare despise.

But for one who stands apart,
Stirred by nought that can befall,
With a cold indifferent heart,—

Trust him least and last of all.

II. FROM "PHANTASTES."

HAVE a bitter Thought, a Snake That used to sting my life to pain. I strove to cast it far away, But every night and every day

It crawled back to my heart again.

It was in vain to live or strive,

To think or sleep, to work or pray; At last I bade this thing accursed Gnaw at my heart, and do its worst, And so I let it have its way.

Thus said I," I shall never fall
Into a false and dreaming peace,
And then awake, with sudden start,
To feel it biting at my heart,

For now the pain can never cease."

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