From All the Year Round.
Looking Down The Road.
In the early spring-time
My long watch began;
Through the daisied meadows
Merry children ran;
Happy lovers wandered
Through the forest deep,
Seeking mossy corners
Where the violets sleep.
I in one small chamber
Patiently abode—
At my garret window
Looking down the road.
Watching, watching, watching,
For what came not back!
Summer marked in flowers
All her sunny track,
Hid the dim blue distance
With her robe of green,
Bathed the nearer meadows
In a golden sheen.
Full the fierce sure arrows
Glanced and gleamed and glowed
On my garret window
Looking down the road.
Watching, watching, watching,
Oh! the pain of hope!
Autumn's shadows lengthened
On the breezy slope;
Groups of tired reapers
Led the loaded wains
From the golden meadows,
Through the dusky lanes;
Home-returning footsteps
O'er the pathway strode—
Not the one I looked for.
Coming down the road.
Winter stripped the branches
Of the roadside tree:
But the frosty hours
Brought no change for me—
Save that I could better,
Through the branches brown.
See the tired travellers
Coming from the town.
Pitiless December
Rained and hailed and snowed.
On my garret window
Looking down the road.
At the last I saw it
(Not the form I sought),
Something brighter, purer,
Blessed my sleeping thought.
'Twas a white-robed angel—
At his steadfast eyes
Paled the wild-fire brightness
Of old memories.
Nearer drew the vision,
While with bated breath
Some one seemed to whisper,
The Deliverer, "Death."
Then my dreaming spirit,
Eased of half its load,
Saw the white wings lessen
Down the dusty road.
God has soothed my sorrow,
He has purged my sin;
Earthly hopes have perished—
Heavenly rest I win.
Dull and dead endurance
Is no portion here;
I am strong to labor,
And my rest is near.
Lifting my dull glances
From the fields below,
So the light of heaven
Settles on my brow.
O my God. I thank thee,
Who that angel showed,
From my garret window
Looking down the road.
Original.
Father Ignatius of St. Paul, [Footnote 42]
Hon. and Rev. George Spencer.
[Footnote 42: Life of F. Ignatius of St. Paul, Passionist. By the Rev. F. Pius a Sancto, Passionist. 1 vol. 12mo. Dublin, James Duffy. Project Gutenberg #51370.]
Fresh from the perusal of this book, we would gladly convey to others the agreeable impression it has left on our imagination. It is an interesting and impartial biography, full of pleasant incidents, simply narrated; with the view of throwing light upon the character of F. Ignatius, and not upon the personal views of his biographer. But we would rather dwell upon its value as the life of a saintly man, whose circumstances were so nearly akin to those of common Christians that no one can assert the impossibility of imitating his example. We have observed, in reading the lives of the saints, that one must himself be a saint to appreciate them aright. Generally severed from us (to our shame be it spoken) by time, race, and national habits, we are startled by strange details, and while wondering over individual idiosyncrasies we lose sight of the heroic purity of intention that hallowed almost every action of their mature lives.