Who will believe that he heard her say,
With a sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way:
"The utmost wonder is this,—I hear,
And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear;
"And am your angel, who was your bride,
And know that, though dead, I have never died."
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
There is the peace that cometh after sorrow,
Of hope surrendered, not of hope fulfilled; A peace that looketh not upon to-morrow,
But calmly on a tempest that is stilled.
A peace which lives not now in joy's excesses,
Nor in the happy life of love secure, But in the unerring strength the heart possesses,
Of conflicts won, while learning to endure.
A peace-there is, in sacrifice secluded,
A life subdued, from will and passion free; 'Tis not the peace that over Eden brooded,
But that which triumphed in Gethsemane.
ANONYMOUS.