It is not because the world's perplexèd meaning Grows more clear; And the Parapets of Heaven, with angels leaning, And Nature sings of praise with all her voices Since within my silent heart, that now rejoices, Nay, not even because your hand holds heart and life; At your will Soothing, hushing all its discord, making strife Teaching Trust to fold her wings, nor ever roam Teaching Love that her securest, safest home 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, Do I take you as a gift that God has given- REST AT EVENING. HEN the weariness of Life is ended, depended, All have failed or broken, one by one; Evening and our Sorrow's shadow blended, How far back will seem the sun's first dawning, And those early mists so cold and grey ! Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning, All alike, withered and cast away. Vain will seem the impatient heart, which waited At the path we thought none else had found; By the storm which cast us to the ground. Vain those pauses on the road, each seeming 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 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 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. |