FORGOTTEN.
A little apart from the rest,
Unnoticed and alone,
No crypt or costly monument,
Nor rich engraven stone.
A little lonely weed-grown mound
But marks the silent spot
Of all that now is left of her,
The fair, so soon forgot.
The summer hath kindly given
A few wild fragrant flowers
To deck her lonely, neglected grave
In meekness from her bowers.
And nature’s song is there trilling
A soothing lullaby,
And in the rustling foliage
The wind breathes sigh for sigh
To the voice of wavelets murmuring
In whispers deep and low,
Of a maiden fair as summer
That perished long ago.
Meek and loving and gentle,
Pure as the angels are
Was her every thought and feeling,
Her soul was bright as a star.
I’m filled with a deathless longing,
Aleene, kneeling by thee;
But the years are slowly waning
Into eternity.
And shall we be reunited,
Where love and life ne’er dies,
In a land of summers fadeless,
In the vales of paradise?
INNER LIFE.
What is this that subtly stealeth
Over my soul to-day,
Just as the last sweet day of summer
Fleeth swiftly away.
Weird and strained is this tender silence
That broodeth o’er the lea,
Over the streams and lonely woodlands,
And along the shrouded sea.
The fields are shorn of their golden yield,
The harvest time is o’er,
And the last sweet day of the summer
Is gone for evermore.
I hear only the crickets chanting
A ceaseless, haunting strain,
And the plaint of the wandering winds
Filling my heart with pain.
Regret for the past that was so fair
Steals back with phantom tread,
With beautiful dreams and faces dear
Hid with the silent dead.
And I bow in tender reverence
Beside their sacred tomb;
My soul is full of a fond desire
For rest, sweet rest, and home.