A RETROSPECT.

On this rustic footbridge sitting,

I have passed delightful eyes,

Moonbeams round about me flitting

Through the overhanging leaves.

With me often came another,

When the west wore hues of gold,

And 'twas neither sister—brother—

One the heart may dearer hold.

She was fair and lightly moulded,

Azure eyed and full of grace;

Gentler form was never folded

In a lover's warm embrace.

Oh those hours of sacred converse,

Their communion now is o'er

And our straying feet shall traverse

Those remembered paths no more.

Hours they were of love and gladness,

Fraught with holy vows of truth:

Not a single thought of sadness

Shadowing o'er the hopes of youth.

I am sitting sad and lonely

Where she often sat with me,

And the voice I hear is only

Of the silvery streamlet's glee.

Where is she, whose gentle fingers,

Oft were wreathed amidst my hair?

Still methinks their pressure lingers,

But, ah no! they are not there.

They are whiter now than ever,

In a light I know not of,

Sweeping o'er the chords of silver

To a song of joy and love.

Though so lonely I am sitting,

This sweet thought of joy may bring,

That she still is round me flitting,

On an angel's tireless wing.