AN ALLEGORY.
BY MRS. J. NORTON.
In a lone forest, dark and drear,
Stood wrapt in grief a maiden fair;
Her flowing locks were wet with dew,
Her life was sad, her friends were few.
A sparkling light gleam'd distant far,
Like twinkling faint of evening star;
Quickly it spread its brilliant ray,
Till forest drear looked bright and gay.
And on the wings of love and light,
A radiant figure, pure and white,
Approached and spake with accents mild:
"Why so despondent, sorrow's child?
"When thy lone feet the violet press,
Its perfume rises still to bless;
While groves and lawns, with landscape fair,
Are bathed in healthful mountain air."
"Ah, friend! thy path shines bright and clear;
Daily thou breath'st the mountain air;
But mine is in the barren wild,
Where naught looks bright to sorrow's child."
"Then take my arm, pale sister, dear,
With you I'll tread this forest drear;
When guided by this light from Heav'n,
Strength and peace will both be given."
They journeyed on through glade and fen,
'Till passing near a rocky glen,
Mild Patience came and sweetly smiled
Upon the path of sorrow's child.
The measured way still brighter grew,
'Till cares and griefs were faint and few.
Thus, Hope and Patience oft beguiled
The toil-worn path of sorrow's child.