VIII. And each year as it found her IX. Her heart, her life, her future, And be therewith content. To-day, what words had stirred her, Her soul could not forget? What dream had filled her spirit With strange and wild regret? X. To leave him for another, Could it indeed be so? Could it have cost such anguish To bid this vision go? Was this her faith? Was Herbert The second in her heart? Did it need all this struggle To bid a dream depart? XI. And yet, within her spirit A home, which might have held her, But Life itself had claimed her, XII. Within her heart there echoed Again the well-known tone That promised this bright future, In words of cold disdain. M XIII. Where now was the stern purpose XIV. To-day! Was it this morning? What would be years of life? For such great suffering call? And why-Oh, still more cruel!- Must her own words do all? XV. Did she repent? Oh Sorrow! And do thy gentle will? See, her tears fall more slowly, The passionate murmurs cease, And back upon her spirit Flow strength, and love, and peace. XVI. The fire burns more brightly, Down on his golden hair. II. I. HE Studio is deserted, Palette and brush laid by, The sketch rests on the easel, The paint is scarcely dry; And Silence-who seems always The next sound that will utter- II. So Alice feels it: listening Each minute brings more near: When the young life, now ebbing, Shall fail, and pass away Into that mighty shadow Who shrouds the house to-day. III. But why-when the sick chamber Is on the upper floorWhy dares not Alice enter Within the close-shut door? If he her all-her Brother, |