Poems of the Heart and Home

by Mrs. J. C. Yule

No more to shed the exile's tears,—
No more the heart by anguish riven,—
No longer bent 'neath toilful years,—
How sweet will be the rest of Heaven

GOOD NIGHT

Good night, good night!—the day
Slowly has borne away,
Music and light;
Once more the starry train
Sweeps over vale and plain,
Soft falls the dews again—
Good night-good night!

Day's weary toils are done,
Set is the glorious sun,
Faded the light;—
Now, to the weary breast
Ever a welcome guest,—
Comes the sweet hour of rest—
Good night—good night!

Evening's cool shadows lie
Calmly o'er earth and sky;
And, from the height
Of the far, wooded hill,
Sends the lone whip-poor-will,
Softer and sweeter still,
Plaintive good night.

Gently let slumber lie
On every weary eye
Tired of the light!
E'en as the folded flowers
Sleep in the forest bowers,
Rest, through the silent hours—
Good night—good night!

THE OLD CHURCH CHOIR

I am slowly treading the mazy track
That leadeth, through sunshine and shadows, back—
Through freshest meads where the dews yet cling
As erst they did to each lowly thing,
Where flowers bloom and where streamlets flow
With the tender music of long ago—
To the far-off past that, through mists of tears,
In its spring time loveliness still appears,
And wooes me back to the gleaming shore
Of sunny years that return no more.

And to night, all weary, and sad, and lone,
I return in thought to those bright years flown,
Whose lingering sweetness, e'en yet, I feel
Like the breath of flower-scents over me steal
I am treading o'er mounds where the dead repose,—
I am stirring the dust of life's perished rose,—
I am rustling the withered leaves that lie
Thick in the pathway of Memory,—
And calling out from each lonely hill
Echoes of voices forever still.

And I pause again where I stood of yore
In the Sabbath light at an old church door,
And, ling'ring a moment, I turn to view
The green hills leaning against the blue
As erewhile they stood in the golden calm
Of morning's sunlight and breath of balm,
With clustering verdure, and blossoming trees,
And gush of bird song and hum of bees,
And glancing shadows that came and went
Of soft clouds high in the firmament,
Floating away in their robes of white
On snowy pinions through realms of light.