Sighed Princess Alice as night grew nearer:— The terrible hour I wait and dread!" But Princess Gwendoline kissed her, sighing,— "It is only Life that can fear dying; Possible loss means possible gain. Those who still dread, are not quite forsaken; But not to fear, because all is taken, Is the loneliest depth of human pain." AN IDEAL. HILE the grey mists of early dawn Were lingering round the hill, And the dew was still upon A wingèd Spirit came to me, the flowers, Folding his blue and shining wings, He laid his hand on mine. I know not if I felt, or heard The mystic word divine, Which woke the trembling air to sighs, The word he spoke, within my heart And cast a spell upon my soul To chain it evermore; Making the cold dull earth look bright, When noon ruled from the heavens, and man Through busy day toiled on, My Spirit drooped his shining wings; His voice had ceased, his grace had flown, His hand Bitter, oh bitter tears, I wept, Yet still I held his hand, I would not understand That this pale Spirit never more Could be what he had been before. Could it be so? My heart stood still. Yet he was by my side. I strove; but my despair was vain ; Vain, too, was love and pride. Could he have changed to me so soon? Now stars are rising one by one, With tender loving care; He speaks and smiles, but never sings, Long since he lost his shining wings. With thankful, true content, I know Is not a faithful spirit mine Mine still-at close of day? .... Yet will my foolish heart repine For that bright morning dream of mine. OUR DEAD. OTHING is our own: we hold our pleasures Just a little while, ere they are fled : One by one life robs us of our treasures; Nothing is our own except our Dead. They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping Cruel life can never stir that sleeping, Cruel time can never seize that prey. Justice pales; truth fades; stars fall from Heaven; No true crown of honour can be given, How the Children leave us: and no traces Linger of that smiling angel band; Weary men and anxious women stand. |