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She sits beneath the elder shade in that long mortal
And piteously on her wan cheek looks down the gentle
And when her senses are restored, whom sees she at
But her, believed in childhood to have wandered off and
In these small hands, so lily-white, is water from the
And a grateful coolness drops from it, as from an angel's wing,
And to her mother's pale lips her rosy lips are laid, While these long, soft eye-lashes drop tears on her hoary head.
She stirs not in her child's embrace, but yields her old grey hairs,
Unto the heavenly dew of tears, the heavenly breath of prayers;.
No voice hath she to bless her child, till that strong fit
But gazeth on the long-lost face and then upon the sky.
The Sabbath morn was beautiful, and the long Sabbath
The evening star rose beautiful, when daylight died
Morn, day, and twilight, this lone glen flowed over with delight,
But the fulness of all mortal joy. hath blessed the
THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.
THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
He reaped the bearded grain at a breath,
"Shall I have nought that is fair," saith he, "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again."
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
"The Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The Reaper said and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they Where he was once a child.
They shall all bloom in fields of light,
And saints, upon their garments white,
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
She knew she should find them all again
O not in cruelty, not in wrath,
'Twas an Angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
TO J. G. S.
I saw a young and tender tree,
Where leaves were few, and fruit was none, Raising its green and slender stalk
To imbibe the dew, and feel the sun ;
I saw a noisy little stream,
Leaping and sparkling all the day,
I saw a beauteous summer cloud,
And such, my April boy, e'en now,
The stately tree, through shine and storm,
"THOU ART SAFE IN HEAVEN, MY DOVE!"
THOU darling child! through many an hour
And wished that I had but the power
To keep thee still that lovely thing,
Pure as bright waters at their spring,-
And when that sweet-toned voice sang out
I've hoped that ne'er a sadder thought
When sped thy joy-winged footsteps fast,
Wished chains were all around them cast
When that fuli heart, which warmed towards all, Poured forth affection's flow,
I've grieved that ever there should fall
The trustless prayer, alas, would rise,
'Tis done!—and now the seal is set,
O not by means we would devise
"IT IS WELL WITH THE CHILD.”
WE wake, but hear no morning song,
From childhood's merry voice ;