She knew she should find them all again Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 'T was an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away. THE DAY IS DONE. The day is done, and the darkness I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist! A feeling of sadness and longing, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Not from the grand old masters, Through the corridors of Time: Who, through long days of labor, Such songs have power to quiet Then read from the treasured volume And lend to the rhyme of the poet And the night shall be filled with music, RESIGNATION. There is no flock, however watched and tended, There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, The air is full of farewells to the dying, The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Let us be patient! These severe afflictions But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead,—the child of our affection,— Where she no longer needs our poor protection, In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, Day after day we think what she is doing Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives. Not as a child shall we again behold her; In our embraces we again enfold her, But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, And beautiful with all the soul's expansion And though at times impetuous with emotion The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, ARROW AND SONG. I shot an arrow into the air, I breathed a song into the air, Long, long afterward, in an oak THE SINGERS. God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again. The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, The second, with a bearded face, Stood singing in the market-place, And stirred with accents deep and loud A gray old man, the third and last, But the great Master said, "I see To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. THE BRIDGE. I stood on the bridge at midnight, I saw her bright reflection Of that lovely night in June, Among the long, black rafters The wavering shadows lay, And the current that came from the ocean Seemed to lift and bear them away; As, sweeping and eddying through them, Rose the belated tide, And, streaming into the moonlight, The seaweed floated wide. And like those waters rushing A flood of thoughts came o'er me, How often, O how often, In the days that had gone by, How often, O how often, I had wished that the ebbing tide For my heart was hot and restless, Yet whenever I cross the river On its bridge with wooden piers, And I think how many thousands I see the long procession Still passing to and fro, The young heart hot and restless, And forever and forever, As long as the river flows, As long as the heart has passions, The moon and its broken reflection GOD'S ACRE. I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls |