The light that cheered my earthly love will seem obscure and dim,
While he abides in purer realms, and I still live for him.
I know that holier hopes and joys around his soul will weave,
While he among angelic loves, unconscious that I grieve,
Will ne’er look down to see me weep, nor breathe a single sigh;
O, God! it is a fearful thought—and this it is to die!
B.
THE HERMIT OF THE PRAIRIE.
BY PETER VON GEIST.
‘To him who in the love of nature holds