(PUBLISHED NOVEMBER, 1857.)
O DEARIE, tiny one,
Why dost so early shun
Thy mother's kiss and mine?
Had'st not enough of love?
Canst better find above,
Than her great love and mine?
That dear new name we found,
It had so sweet a sound!
No more 'tis hers and mine.
Only a month to stay!
And then to speed away
From her dear love and mine!
Those visions in thine eyes,
Those glimpses of the skies,
No more are hers and mine.
The loving, lingering trace
Of heaven in thy face,
No longer hers and mine.
O babie, where art thou?
Shall never more thy brow
Press on her breast or mine? Thy dear hand no more stray Amid our hair, or stay
Upon her lips or mine?
Shall it no more lie clasped Between her breasts, or grasped
Around this finger mine? Wilt wake no more at night Thy mother's slumbers light,— I dreaming both are mine?
O babie, when we come,
Wilt know in that long home
Thy mother's face and mine?
Sure we shall meet that day,
Sure thou shalt be alway
Thy mother's still, and mine.
WHEN I thought of her, I wept
In a moaning mood;
Icy thoughts about me crept,
In a trance my spirit slept ;
"God is"-wilfully I muttered-
O'er my lips a soft hand swept,
And a voice most gently uttered
One word only-"Good!"
THE SABBATH.
LIKE a green oasis
In the desert's drear expanse,
It brightens way-worn faces,
Their travel-stain effaces,
And a new glory places
On their advance.
(PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1857.)
AGAINST the temple pillar leant,
With fervid adoration spent,
A maiden ;—in her violet eyes
A wealth of holy memories;
And peace upon
As in God's presence stands she now,
Without a stain upon her soul,
Yet sweetly, calmly sorrowful,
With gloom that she will never own ;— For hers it is to live alone,
Without love's sanctified caress,
And all home's daily happiness.
It must be well; though ne'er I knew
A heart more tender, pure, and true,
A lovelier life, a sweeter mind,
And all the virtues so combined.
Her tender lips have never known
A careless or ungentle tone;
Her daily life is harmony,
As of a stream beneath God's sky;
Along life's path in earthly sight
She moves, a presence as of light;
So like an angel, that our eyes
Oft open with a vague surprise
That wings not yet to her are given,
To pass from earth, and enter heaven.
(PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1857.)
MAIDEN of the tender face,
That seemed the very home of grace ;
Transparent as a streamlet's brink
Wherein pink clouds of sunset sink ;
Maiden of the golden hair,
Where the sunbeams fettered were;
Forever gay, forever wild,
And wayward as a wilful child;
Choosing the wrong more oft than right,
Yet when most wrong most sweet and bright;
Full of strange whims, and moods more strange,
And happy in a constant change ;—
Ah, though thy lips turned all to jest,
Thine eyes a deeper thought expressed!
A VIOLET that in a valley grew;
But her simplicity of loveliness,
And her own wealth of fragrancy still less,
And her high use and mission, scarcely knew ;
One of God's tender stars of purest hue,
Guiding the wanderer in his weariness;
Shaming the self-contented to confess
As God, a God of love and beauty too;
A cloud of heaven, that on the thirsty soul
Rained showers of healing; a soft shading tree,
That o'er a weary heart bent lovingly,
And hid it from the sun; a voice to lull
Madness and sorrow,—all are types of thee,
Beautiful form, and soul more beautiful.
I SAW an angel in the western skies,
Of a most marvellous beauty, such as lies
Upon no mortal thing; and well I knew
Its bloom was ages old, yet ever new :
Its shape I could not tell, so shadowy were
The limits of its beauty; into air
The fringes of its robe did faintly fade.
Most marvellous robe! A thousand colours played
Unceasingly upon it everywhere;
As if all rainbows that had lit the air
Had left their tints upon it, and the wind
Had wove them mystically ;- -so combined,
No curious eye could trace the boundary
Of any separate hue. Then, to my eye,
Low bending over earth the seraph seemed,
Baptizing with the love of beauty; gleamed
From wondrous changing eyes the light of truth,
Teaching to men love's everlasting youth,
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