'Tis but the calm before the storm;
The flush of earth's consumptive form;
The hopeful smile, the fever'd breath,
Before the stern approach of death.
THE SHADOW OF THE HOUSEHOLD.
There is a sympathy in love
We bear for those who mourn,
Whose shadows of departed joys
With every thought return.
'Tis hard to stem the stream of grief
That floods the parents' heart
When death unvails embosom'd hopes,
And throws its fatal dart.
The nursling of a mother's love,
That nestles on her breast,
Is but a life, celestial gift,
By God's own seal impress'd.
And when its prattling lips rejoice
In innocent delight
The parents' love and cherish'd hope,
With tenfold power unite.
Anticipated prospects rise
From hope's enchanted dreams,
Converting life's prospective skies
From shade to sunny beams,
But oft, alas, those fancied hopes
Are in the bud destroy'd;
The cherished gift is pluckt away
And leaves a lonely void.
Its lovely form returns to earth,
Its spirit soars to bliss;
Tho' destin'd to a happy world
It oft may visit this.
Perchance around the household hearth
When prayer's sweet incense rise,
It may return as messenger
To waft it to the skies.
'Tis sweet to cherish such a thought,
Even tho' it were untrue,
That spirit-friends are hovering round
Tho' absent from our view.
But, oh! such dreams however sweet,
A solace to impart,
Can never fill the vacant seat,
Nor yet the parents' heart.
The silent toys, the empty clothes,
Those vestiges of death;
Are full of mournful memories,
Which spring from every breath,
The active form the smiling face,
In every thought appear;
The prattling voice so cheering once
Still lingers in the ear.
The future casts a shadow now,
And hopes give place to grief,
And all these things so pleasing once
Can give no real relief.
'Tis only from a heavenly source
That happiness can flow;
There only can the heart procure
A balm for every woe.