With thankfulness I raised it from the rest,
And joyfully acknowledged it the best,
The only one, of all the many there.
That I could feel was good for me to bear.
And, while I thus my chosen one confessed,
I saw a heavenly brightness on it rest;
And as I bent, my burden to sustain,
I recognized my own old cross again.
But oh! how different did it seem to be,
Now I had learned its preciousness to see!
No longer could I unbelieving say
"Perhaps another is a better way."
Ah, no! henceforth my one desire shall be,
That he who knows me best should choose for me;
And so, whate'er his love sees good to send,
I'll trust it's best,—because he knows the end.
HON. MRS. CHARLES HOBART.
Something beyond! though now, with joy unfound,
The life-task falleth from thy weary hand, Be brave, be patient! In the fair beyond
Thou'lt understand.
Thou'lt understand why our most royal hours
Couch sorrowful slaves bound by low nature's greed; Why the celestial soul's a minion made
To narrowest need.
In this pent sphere of being incomplete,
The imperfect fragment of a beauteous whole, For yon rare regions, where the perfect meet,
Sighs the lone soul.
Sighs for the perfect! Far and fair it lies;
It hath no half-fed friendships perishing fleet, No partial insights, no averted eyes,
No loves unmeet.