I stole away from that sacred place,
Where never a form was laid,
But the fairest dream my soul e’er knew
Rests in that sylvan shade.
In many lands and o’er distant seas
My restless feet have strayed;
I’ve faced the storm and battle’s rage
With courage undismayed.
In every clime and on every sea
I vainly sought to forget,
But memory still remained the same—
A changeless, fadeless regret.
I have come again at the midnight,
After changeful, weary years,
And the scenes of the dear long ago
Fill my eyes with tender tears.
And I steal sometimes at the midnight
To that quiet, sacred place,
When the wind’s breath kindly caresses,
And the moon unveils her face.
I dream of the future at midnight,
A fadeless, celestial shore,
Where the lost shall be reunited,
And weariness come no more.
CHANGE.
Sunny were the days of childhood,
And the old home was aglow
With love of the happy faces—
A dear dream of long ago.
And the household then was perfect,
With no vacant, appealing chair,
Like a long sweet day of summer,
Breathing joyance everywhere.
Like songs of birds in the spring-time,
Or the fragrant flowers of May,
Or the blooming of the summer,
Or the seasons that glide away;
Like dreams our life is, and fleeting,
Aye, a dreaming, and nothing more;
True life is beyond the gloaming,
Full and free on God’s fadeless shore.
THOUGHTS.
Ah! why is it ever thus?
These mystical thoughts and tears
Are ever present with me
As a dream for years and years.
Is’t the voice of weary winds
In plaint o’er the blighted lea,
Rustling the autumn leaves
Adown from each faded tree?