ELLIE MAYLIE.
BY JENNIE DOWLING DE WITT.
THE light of other days, my love,
Is o'er my vision softly stealing;
The music of thy bridal vows,
Like harp-notes, up the past is pealing.
But lip, nor eye, nor sunny brow,
Nor cheek with witching dimples lighted,
Were half so dear to me as now,
When years have proved the love we plighted.
Oh! my Ellie Maylie dear,
My ever-winning Ellie Maylie,
Love like thine
To hearts like mine
Is air and sunlight, Ellie Maylie.
Down Youth's bright tide, our shallop light
Went floating on through banks of flowers;
But riper years brought clouds and night,
For Life must have both sun and showers
Well might thy Willie brave the storm,
And "breast the adverse billow gayly;"
For what were Youth and Flowers to Love,
Or all the world to Ellie Maylie
Oh! my Ellie Maylie dear,
My artless, clinging Ellie Maylie,
Breath to being,
Eye to seeing,
Wert thou to me, my Ellie Maylie.
Not where above a little grave
The early summer buds are springing,
Where willows in the sunlight wave,
Not there—not there my heart is clinging;
But there, amid those deathless flowers,
That up from Heav'n's pure soil are springing,
Where waits that angel-babe of ours,
'Tis there—'tis there my heart is clinging!
Oh! my Ellie Maylie dear,
My gentle, trusting Ellie Maylie,
Lulled to rest
On Jesus' breast,
We'll meet in Heav'n, my Ellie Maylie!