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It is not because the world's perplexèd meaning

Grows more clear;

And the Parapets of Heaven, with angels leaning,
Seem more near;

And Nature sings of praise with all her voices
Since yours spoke,

Since within my silent heart, that now rejoices,
Love awoke!

Nay, not even because your hand holds heart and

life;

At your will

Soothing, hushing all its discord, making strife
Calm and still;

Teaching Trust to fold her wings, nor ever roam
From her nest;

Teaching Love that her securest, safest home
Must be Rest.

But because this human Love, though true and

sweet

Yours and mine

Has been sent by Love more tender, more complete,

More divine;

That it leads our hearts to rest at last in Heaven,
Far above you;

Do I take you as a gift that God has given-
-And I love you!

REST AT EVENING.

HEN the weariness of Life is ended,
And the task of our long day is done,
And the props, on which our hearts

depended,

All have failed or broken, one by one;

Evening and our Sorrow's shadow blended,
Telling us that peace is now begun.

How far back will seem the sun's first dawning,

And those early mists so cold and grey !
Half forgotten even the toil of morning,
And the heat and burthen of the day.

Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning,

All alike, withered and cast away.

Vain will seem the impatient heart, which waited
Toils that gathered but too quickly round;
And the childish joy so soon elated

At the path we thought none else had found;
And the foolish ardour, soon abated

By the storm which cast us to the ground.

Vain those pauses on the road, each seeming
As our final home and resting-place;

And the leaving them, while tears were streaming

Of eternal sorrow down our face;

And the hands we held, fond folly dreaming

That no future could their touch efface.

All will then be faded :-night will borrow
Stars of light to crown our perfect rest;
And the dim vague memory of faint sorrow
Just remain to show us all was best,

Then melt into a divine to-morrow :

Oh, how poor a day to be so blest!

A RETROSPECT.

ROM this fair point of present bliss,

Where we together stand,

Let me look back once more, and trace

That long and desert land,

Wherein till now was cast my lot, and I could live, and thou wert not.

Strange that my heart could beat, and know

Alternate joy and pain,

That suns could roll from east to west,

And clouds could pass in rain,

And the slow hours without thee fleet, nor stay their noiseless silver feet.

What had I then? a Hope, that grew

Each hour more bright and dear,

The flush

upon the eastern skies

That showed the sun was near:

Now night has faded far away, my sun has risen,

and it is day.

A dim Ideal of tender grace

In my soul reigned supreme;

Too noble and too sweet I thought

To live, save in a dream

Within thy heart to-day it lies, and looks on me

from thy dear eyes.

Some gentle spirit,-Love I thought,

Built many a shrine of pain; Though each false Idol fell to dust

The worship was not vain,

But a faint radiant shadow cast back from our
Love upon the Past.

And Grief, too, held her vigil there ;

With unrelenting sway

Breaking my cloudy visions down,

Throwing my flowers away :

I owe to her fond care alone that I may now be

all thine own.

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