The Home of Childhood.
Home of my childhood, once again,
With fond delight, I turn to thee;
Here, in this green and silent glen,
I'll sit beneath the o'ershadowing tree;
While memory, with its magic power,
Summons to my enraptured mind,
Scenes, which, till this mysterious hour,
Had been to Lethean waves consign'd.Sweet visions rise before my gaze,
All dim and meagre, like ruins old;
Which seen beneath the moon's pale rays,
Scarce can their real form be told.
Yet, beautiful and fair they seem,--
Those shadowy visions of the past;
And to my soul they bring a dream
Of happines, too bright to last.Soft eyes are gazing on my own,--
Sweet voices fall upon my ear,--
I feel that I am not alone,
For spirits of the loved are near;
And joyfully my soul goes forth,
Mingling with theirs in blissful love,
Linked in the bonds of union sweet--
Through the past scenes of life we rove.And once again, they spring to life,--
The hopes and joys of other years;
Fresh as before the world's rude strife
Had changed their fount to bitter tears,
Smiles, looks and words that long had been
Erased from memory's tablet leaves,
Come thronging o'er my soul again,
Bright as the spell which Fancy weaves.Oh, could the dream forever last,--
Could those loved forms forever stay;
But no, e'en now the visions past,--
Like rainbow hues they fade away.
And I am left to muse alone,
As one by one, those forms depart:
The chill wind blows with hollow moan,
And sadness broodeth o'er my heart.Well, I must nerve my spirit up,
To meet life's trials, stern and dark;
I'll shrink not from the bitter cup,
For fear, though storms assail my bark.
But I will trust in him, whose power
Curbs the proud billows in their might,
Whose presence cheers the darkest hour,
And guides the wanderer's bark aright.
The Happy Land.
There is a land beyond the sky,
Where all is fair and bright,
No tear there dims the sparkling eye,
No cloud obscures the light.There, in those bright elysian fields,
Bloom flow'rs that never fade;
And seraphs tune their golden harps,
In spotless robes arrayed.
Devotion.
Tempted, my cottage home to leave,
I wandered forth one dewy eve,
When all was hushed and still;
Save the low music of the breeze,
That murmur'd through the leafy trees,
And gushing of the rill.An unfrequented path I took,
That led to a sequester'd nook--
That 'neath the moon's pale beams,
Seemed like some spirit-haunted dell,
Where those light, airy phantoms dwell,
That visit us in dreams.The sweet flowers, bathed in pearly dew,
Half veil'd their glowing charms from view
And drooped their lowly heads;
While out, upon the evening air,
A grateful incense, rich and rare,
Stole up from their low beds.The green trees seemed to tower on high,
And mingle with the deep blue sky;
While in the moon's soft light,
The noiseless shadows came and went,
Waver'd and glanced, and graceful bent,
Like champions in fight.There was a little, fragrant bower,
That nature, in some sportive hour,
Had gracefully arrayed;
And overgrown with creeping vines,
Their tendrils with the green bows twined,
Formed an imperious shade.As near this fairy bower I drew,
An object met my startled view,
Entrancing all my powers;
A fair young girl was kneeling there,
Her white hands clasped in fervent prayer,--
Her dark hair wreathed with flowers.Meekly her eyes to heav'n were turned,
While in her trusting heart there burned
The fire of holy love;
So fair, so heavenly, looked her face,
Less seemed she one of mortal race,
Than angel from above.It was a lovely, starry night,
And softly in the silver light,
Did flickering shadows fall;
And bright the flowers that blossomed there;
But the incense of that maiden's prayer,
Was purer, far, than all.The sweetest sight below the skies,--
And sweetest in holy angels' eyes,
Is the young heart, when given,
With all its hopes and fears,--
Its sunny smiles and gushing tears,
An offering unto Heaven.
To a Friend
Oh, wherefore ask a song of me;
Romance within my heart is dead;
Hush'd is my spirit's minstrelsy,
Youth's golden visions all have fled.Life's rainbow hues have pass'd away,
With clearer vision now I see;
And I more deeply feel each day,
That life's a stern reality.It is no dream, or fairy tale,
Or minstrel's strain of music rare;
But ever foremost in its train,
Walk duty stern, and weary care.We may not linger by the way,
To pluck the lily or the rose,
Too soon will pass the summer day,
And evening shadows round us close.Yet there's within each heart a chord
That vibrates with a music tone;
Duty performed brings its reward,
We live not for ourselves alone.Life has a higher, nobler aim,
A destiny beyond earth's toys;
A richer heritage we claim,
A title to celestial joys.Then upward look, with firm resolve,
Thy spirit's precious plume to rise;
What though thine earthly house dissolve;
Thou hast a mansion in the skies.
Lines, Written upon the Death of Two Sisters.
What heav'nly music greets mine ear!
What seraph's voice is that I hear,
Breathing in numbers soft and low?
Methinks th' angelic strains I know.Dearest sister, come away,
There's nought on earth that's worth thy stay;
Then, sister, linger not, but haste
The joys of paradise to taste.The songs of praise we utter here,
Have ne'er been heard by mortal ear;
Nor mortal eye hath ever seen
"The fields array'd in living green."The gates of precious stone unfold,
The streets are paved with shining gold;
Pure crystal streams of water flow,
And trees of fadeless verdure grow.There is no sighing here, nor tears,
No guilty thoughts, no doubts or fears;
But love is pure and never dies,
And songs of endless praise arise.Then sister, linger not, but come,
Angels await to guard thee home;
Here, in the mansions of the blest,
Here shall thy weary soul find rest.Sister, I come, thy cheering voice
Bids my whole heart and soul rejoice;
Fain would my ling'ring spirit rise
On wings of Faith beyond the skies.I linger but a little space,
To gaze upon my husband's face;
My gentle infant's lips to press,
And fold my first born to my breast.My mother's voice once more to hear,--
Once more to see a brother dear,
A sister's parting kiss receive,--
Then, dearest sister, I will leave.E'en now my clouded senses feel
A heav'nly transport o'er them steal;
My sight grows dim, thick comes my breath;
Sister, I come, for this is death.