THE ALPINE SHEEP.

WHEN on my ear your loss was knelled,
And tender sympathy upburst,
A little spring from memory welled,
Which once had quenched my bitter thirst.

And I was fain to bear to you

A portion of its mild relief,

That it might be as cooling dew,

To steal some fever from your grief.

After our child's untroubled breath
Up to the Father took its way,
And on our home the shade of death
Like a long twilight haunting lay,

And friends came round, with us to weep
Her little spirit's swift remove,

The story of the Alpine sheep

Was told to us by one we love.

The Alpine Sheep.

They, in the valley's sheltering care,

Soon crop the meadow's tender prime, And when the sod grows brown and bare, The shepherd strives to make them climb

To airy shelves of pasture green,

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That hang along the mountain's side, Where grass and flowers together lean, And down through mists the sunbeams slide.

But nought can tempt the timid things

The steep and rugged path to try, Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings, And seared below the pastures lie,

Till in his arms their lambs he takes,
Along the dizzy verge to go,

Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks,
They follow on, o'er rock and snow.

And in those pastures, lifted fair,

More dewy soft than lowland mead, The shepherd drops his tender care, And sheep and lambs together feed.

This parable, by Nature breathed,
Blew on me as the south wind free
O'er frozen brooks, that flow unsheathed
From icy thraldom to the sea.

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The Alpine Sheep.

A blissful vision, through the night,
Would all my happy senses sway,
Of the Good Shepherd on the height,
Or climbing up the starry way,

Holding our little lamb asleep, -
While, like the murmur of the sea,
Sounded that voice along the deep,

Saying, "Arise, and follow me!"

DEAR FRIEND, FAR OFF, MY LOST

DESIRE.

DEAR friend, far off, my lost desire,

So far, so near, in woe and weal;

Oh, loved the most when most I feel

There is a lower and a higher :

Known and unknown, — human, divine! Sweet human hand and lips and eye, Dear heavenly friend that canst not die, Mine, mine forever, ever mine!

Strange friend, past, present, and to be,
Loved deeplier, darklier understood;
Behold I dream a dream of good,

And mingle all the world with thee.

Thy voice is on the rolling air;

I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,

And in the setting thou art fair.

106 Dear Friend, far off, my lost Desire.

What art thou, then? I cannot guess;

But though I seem in star and flower
To feel thee, some diffusive power,

I do not therefore love thee less.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh;

I have thee still, and I rejoice;

I

prosper, circled with thy voice; I shall not lose thee, though I die.