The Sabbath dawned in beauty,
With a calm whose breath of peace,
Made a solemn grand cathedral
Of the wild vast wilderness.
The woods were the soft-toned organs,
And the winds, thro' their alleys dim,
Now raised some high, glad anthem,
Now chanted some low, sweet hymn.
We came from our tents together,
And stood on the lone hill-side,
To join in the songs of Nature,
That Sabbath morning-tide.
"With one consent let all the earth,"
Swelled on' the sunny air.
And then, how each home-sick, heart went forth
In that strange hour of prayer!
And the text the preacher gave us
Was, "Rejoice in the Lord always,"
Alike in the summer sunshine,
And the gloom of winter days.
And the clouds of our gloom were banished
Like the mists from the morning air;
We had strength for the untried future
For God is everywhere.
AT EVENING.
Slowly along the darkening sky
The twilight comes with stealthy tread;
Far out to west great cloud-ranks lie,
By sunset flushed a rosy red.
Oh! shadows of the gloaming time,
Gather, and loom, and darkly fall,
The winding path to Fancy's clime,
Lies hidden 'neath your dusky pall.
Pent in the city, now I dream
Of country scenes, of lanes and flowers,
Of woodland glen, and woodland stream,
Pictures of bygone sunset hours!
Oh, bygone! mighty claims you own,
That summon me to seek your shrine,
I hear the call and wait alone,
Until the charmed light shall shine.
'Tis breaking! Glistening near and far
A radiance floats, of dazzling light
Untouched by Time, or Tempest-scar
I view my past again to-night!
Oh! fair, false hope, your fruit is pain,
Oh, Love! when life's spring leaves were green,
Sweet, e'en in thought to see again
Th' Elysian called "what might have been."
"What might have been," we scan it o'er
And charmed we live the dreams in thought,
But wake to find that mist-world shore,
Like cloudy vapor melt to nought—
The brightness fades, the sweet rays die,
Deep darkness falls and night is come;
A wan new moon looks down the sky,
And stars are trembling in the gloom.
Morning, and noon, and evening grey,
And mystic twilight, all are flown;
And e'en my dreams are pass'd away,—
Again I find myself alone!
Young love's sweet morn, when hope was nigh.
Stern noonday toiling, which is best?
Ah! me, they all must fade and die,—
'Tis but the end can give us rest.
IN PEACE.
The name, the age, and a sentence written
On a marble cross o'er a grassy mound,
Where, calmly beneath sleeps the tired heart smitten,
Cruelly pierced by a dastard wound,
At peace in the heart of the restless city.
She slumbers well in her lowly bed,
With never a tear of love or pity
By kindly mourner above her shed.