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She needs no more pity,—
But I mourn his fate,

When he hears his letter
Came a day too late.

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THE REQUITAL.

OUD roared the Tempest, Fast fell the sleet; A little Child Angel Passed down the street, With trailing pinions, And weary feet.

The moon was hidden;

No stars were bright; So she could not shelter

In heaven that night, For the Angels' ladders

Are rays of light.

She beat her wings

At each window pane, And pleaded for shelter,

But all in vain :— "Listen," they said,

"To the pelting rain!"

She sobbed, as the laughter

And mirth grew higher, "Give me rest and shelter

Beside your fire, And I will give you

Your heart's desire."

The dreamer sat watching

His embers gleam,
While his heart was floating

Down hope's bright stream; ... So he wove her wailing

Into his dream.

The worker toiled on,
For his time was brief;

The mourner was nursing
Her own pale grief:

They heard not the promise
That brought relief.

But fiercer the Tempest
Rose than before,

When the Angel paused
At a humble door,

And asked for shelter
And help once more.

A weary woman,

Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her

Of want and sin, Heard the Child Angel And took her in.

Took her in gently,
And did her best

To dry her pinions;
And made her rest

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RETURNED—" MISSING".

(five tears After.)

, ES, I was sad and anxious,
But now, dear, I am gay;
I know that it is wisest
To put all hope away :—
Thank God that I have done so
And can be calm to-day.

For hope deferred—you know it,
Once made my heart so sick:

Now, I expect no longer;
It is but the old trick

Of hope, that makes me tremble,
And makes my heart beat quick.

All day I sit here calmly;

Not as I did before,
Watching for one whose footstep

Comes never, never more.. ..

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