THE HOMESTEAD VISIT.
He had wandered far and long, and when, on his return to the scenes of his early life, he came in full view of the old house, in which and around which those scenes were clustered, he throw down his oaken staff, raised his hands, and clapped them like a child. Then a tear would roll down his face; then a smile illumine it; then he would dance with joy. As he approached the building, he observed that the door was open; and the large, hospitable-looking room was so inviting, and there being no one present, he entered, and indulged in thoughts like these:
I STAND where I have stood before:
The same roof is above me,
But they who were are here no more,
For me to love, or love me.
I listen, and I seem to hear
A favorite voice to greet me;
But yet I know that none are near,
Save stranger forms, to meet me.
I'll sit me down,—for I have not
Sat here since first I started
To run life's race,—and on this spot
Will muse of the departed.
Then I was young, and on my brow
The rays of hope were shining;
But Time hath there his imprint now,
That tells of life's declining.
How great the change!-though I can see
Full many a thing I cherished-
Yet, since beneath yon old oak tree
I stood, how much hath perished.
Here is the same old oaken floor,
And there the same rough ceiling
Each telling of the scenes of yore,
Each former joys revealing.
But, friends of youth-they all have fled;
Some yet on earth do love us;
While others, passed beyond the dead,
Live guardian ones above us.
Yet, o'er us all one powerful hand
Is raised to guard forever,
And all, ere long, one happy band
Be joined, no more to sever.
I've trimmed my sail on every sea
Where crested waves are swelling;
Yet oft my heart turned back to thee,
My childhood's humble dwelling.
I've not forgot my youthful days,
The home that was my mother's,
When listening to the words of praise
That were bestowed on others.
See, yonder, through the window-pane,
The rock on which I rested;
And on that green how oft I've lain-
What memories there are vested!
The place where once a sister's hand
I held-none loved I fonder;
But she's now with an angel band,
Whilst I a pilgrim wander.
There was a pretty, blue-eyed girl,
A good old farmer's daughter;
We used the little stones to hurl,
And watch them skip the water.
We'd range among the forest trees,
To gather woodland flowers;
And then each other's fancy please
In building floral bowers.
Within this room, how many a time
I've listened to a story,
And heard grandfather sing his rhyme
'Bout Continental glory!
And oft I'd shoulder his old staff,
And march as proud as any,
Till the old gentleman would laugh,
And bless me with a penny.
Hark! 't is a footstep that I hear;
A stranger is approaching;
I must away-were I found here
I should be thought encroaching.
One last, last look-my old, old home!
One memory more of childhood!
I'll not forget, where'er I roam,
This homestead and the wild-wood.
THE MARINER'S SONG.
O THE sea, the sea! I love the sea!
For nothing on earth seems half as free
As its crested waves; they mount on high,
And seem to sport with the star-gemmed sky.
Talk as you will of the land and shore;
Give me the sea, and I ask no more.
I love to float on the ocean deep,
To be by its motion rocked to sleep;
Or to sit for hours and watch the spray,
Marking the course of our outward way,
While upward far in a cloudless sky
With a shriek the wild bird passeth by.
And when above are the threatening clouds,
And the wild wind whistles 'mid the shrouds,
Our masts bend low till they kiss the wave,
As beckoning one from its ocean cave,
Then hurra for the sea! I love its foam,
And over it like a bird would roam.
There is that's dear in a mountain home,
With dog and gun 'mid the woods to roam;
And city life hath a thousand joys,
That quiver amid its ceaseless noise;
Yet nothing on land can give to me
Such joy as that of the pathless sea.
When morning comes, and the sun's first rays
All around our gallant topmast plays,
My heart bounds forth with rapturous glee,
O, then, 't is then that I love the sea!
Talk as you will of the land and shore;
Give me the sea, and I ask no more!
LOVE'S LAST WORDS.
THEY knew that she was going
To holier, better spheres,
Yet they could not stay the flowing
Of their tears;
And they bent above in sorrow,
Like mourners o'er a tomb,
For they knew that on the morrow
There'd be gloom.
There was one among the number
Who had watched the dying's breath,
With an eye that would not slumber
Until death.
There, as he bent above her,
He whispered in her ear
How fondly he did love her,
Her most dear.
"One word, 't will comfort send me,
When early spring appears,
And o'er thy grave I bend me
In my tears.
A single word now spoken
Shall be kept in Memory's shrine,
Where the dearest treasured token
Shall be thine."
She pressed his hand-she knew him-
With the fervor of a child;
And, looking fondly to him,
Sweetly smiled.
And, smiling thus, she started
For her glorious home above,
And her last breath, as it parted,
Whispered "Love."
LIGHT IN DARKNESS.
SOMETIMES my heart complaineth
And moans in bitter sighs;
And dreams no hope remaineth,
No more its sun will rise.
But yet I know God liveth,
And will do all things well;
And that to me he giveth
More good than tongue can tell.
And though above me linger
At times dark Sorrow's shroud,
I see Faith's upraised finger
Point far beyond the cloud.