BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD.
Good-bye—good-bye, thou gracious, golden day:
Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away
In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me,
And I, through my tears, gaze and smile with thee.
I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam
Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream,
Whose floating glory melts within the sky,
And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye!
Were we not friends—best friends—my cherished day?
Did I not treasure every eloquent ray
Of golden light and love thou gavest me?
And have I not been true—most true to thee?
And thou—thou earnest like a joyous bird,
Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred.
And lowly sang me all the happy time
Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime!
And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee,
From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me,
A new, sweet joy—a smiling angel-guest,
That softly asked a home within my breast.
For talking sadly with my soul alone,
I heard far off and faint a music-tone,
It seemed a spirit's call—so soft it stole
On fairy wings into my waiting soul.
I knew it summoned me to something sweet,
And so I followed it with faltering feet;
And found—what I had prayed for with wild tears—
A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years!
So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day!
And for all lovely things that came to play
In thy glad smile—the pure and pleading flowers
That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours—