WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
TRUTH.
For constant truth my aching spirit yearns,
And finds no comfort in a glorious cheat;
On the firm rock I wish to set my feet,
And look upon the star that changeless burns;
Yon gorgeous clouds that in the sunset glow,
With fire-wrought domes for angel-palace meet,
Beneath my gaze their surface beauties fleet;
With parting light how dull their splendors grow.
I cannot worship vapors, and the hue
That on the dove's neck flickers, as it veers,
Bewilders, but not charms me; whilst the blue
Of the clear sky gives comfort 'mid all fears,
And but to think on that unshadowed white,
The angels walk in, makes my dark path bright.
THE FUTURE.
Eternal sunshine withers; constant light
Would make the beauty of the world look wan;
The storm that sleeps with dark'ning terror on,
Leaves verdant freshness where it seemed to blight;
Most dreary is the land where comes no night,
For there the sun is chill, and slowly drawn
Round the horizon, spreads a sickly dawn,
No promise of a day more warm and bright.
Bless then the clouds and darkness, for we can
Discern with awe through them what angel faces
Watch and direct, and from their holy places
Smile with sublime benignity on man;
And dearly cherish sickness, pain, and sorrow,
As gloomy heralds of a bright to-morrow.
V.