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THE TRIUMPH OF TIME.
HE tender delicate Flowers,
Fade in a few short hours.
The gentle and the gay,
Rejoicing in the day,
Them far away.
And Hopes, perfumed and bright,
Trembling in morning light,
Before the night!
I wept that all must die “ Yet Love," I cried, “ doth live, and conquer
And Time passed by, And breathed on Love, and killed it with his breath
Ere Death was nigh.
More bitter far than all
ITHOUT one bitter feeling let us part-
I thank you for the cherished hope of years,
A starry future, dim and yet divine,
Winging its way from Heaven to be mine, Laden with joy, and ignorant of tears.
I thank you, yes, I thank you even more
heart learnt not without love to live,
and still had more to give, From an abundant and exhaustless store.
I thank you, and no grief is in these tears ;
I thank you, not in bitterness but truth,
For the fair vision that adorned my youth And glorified so many happy years.
Yet how much more I thank
that At length the veil your hand had woven away,
Which hid my idol was a thing of clay, And false the altar I had knelt before.
I thank you that you taught me the stern truth,
(None other could have told and I believed,)
That vain had been my life, and I deceived, And wasted all the purpose of my youth.
I thank you that your hand dashed down the shrine,
Wherein my idol worship I had paid;
Else had I never known a soul was made To serve and worship only the Divine.
I thank you that the heart I cast away
I thank you for the lesson that such love
Is a perverting of God's royal right,
That it is made but for the Infinite, And all too great to live except above.
I thank you for a terrible awaking,
And if reproach seemed hidden in my pain,
And sorrow seemed to cry on your disdain, Know that my blessing lay in your forsaking.
Farewell for ever now :
peace we part; And should an idle vision of my tears
Arise before your soul in after years Remember that I thank
you from my
THE GOLDEN GATE.
IM shadows gather thickly round, and
up the misty stair they climb, The cloudy stair that upward leads to
where the closed portals shine, Round which the kneeling spirits wait the opening
of the Golden Gate.
And some with eager longing go, still pressing for
ward, hand in hand, And some with weary step and slow, look back
where their Beloved standYet up the misty stair they climb, led onward by
the Angel Time.
As unseen hands roll back the doors, the light that floods the