Broken hearts and gentle bosoms, once serene and pure as

thine

Woe, woe! broken now and withering soon to fall and die like mine

But I reck'd not, for my spirit seem'd alternate fire and

night,

Like a cloud-robed sky at midnight riven and kindled into

light.

Hush! speak low: how shall I tell thee after this of inno

Brother, look, a star is trembling through the tearful win

dow-panes.

I can tell thee now, - for blessed are to me the thoughts

that rise

With those silent pilgrims yonder wending through the silent skies.

Even thus amid the darkness, and the winds, the waves, the

storm,

Of my sin-sick soul, I pass'd one evening by an angel form. She had seen me sadly smile upon some children sporting

by,

And her heart was touch'd with pity - and a tear came in

her eye:

And she look'd upon me- spell-bound, I stood still and look'd on her,

And a gleam of light fell glancing down the mists of things that were.

Surely ne'er o'er human bosom came love in such tempest

kind;

All my spirit's dark foundations heaved like waves beneath

the wind.

Often did I wrench the thought from out my bosom's core

and cry,

Never should my cloud-tost being cross that blue trans

parent sky.

But again she pass'd, and sighing— Jesus, it was all she said. Yet down, down into her heart-depths through bewildering

"Thou art weary, way-worn, storm-tost — darker spots are

on thy soul:

storms must bend

Jesus died—fear not, dear wanderer ·

to His control."

Oh, that word! I scarce had heard it since in music erst it

fell

From our sainted mother's lips, who breathed it as her last

farewell.

The dark thunder-clouds that long had risen with every

rising day,

Heard it, and were troubled - heard it, and began to break

away.

Bitter was the shame, and bitter were the first tears that I

wept;

Frequent still wild nightmare visions broke upon the sleep

I slept :

But at length the spring was heal'd, and gentle tears began

to flow,

And One whisper'd, "I have suffer'd

load of woe!"

I have borne thy

All the fabled lights of Reason seem'd like torch-flames tost

and driven

All its music was as discord to the melody of heaven.

As I knelt and gazed (esteeming all the world beside but

loss)

On the one lone star that glimmer'd o'er my Saviour's

silent cross.

Brother, brother, canst thou wonder that, when peace began

to brood

Over those wild troubled waters of my spirit's solitude,

I should turn and bless the angel who had shewn that light

divine?

Blessing, see her

seeing, love her - win and bind her

heart to mine?

Shall I tell thee of the beauty of her sylph-like form and

face,

Such as sculptor's hands, entranced all the while, might love to trace?

Of her soft dark tresses shading the swift blushes of her

cheek?

Of her clear and thoughtful forehead, sunlit like a cloud

land peak?

Of her gentle heaving bosom, heaving o'er her passionate

heart?

Of her soft blue eye that bound thee without thinking,

But within whose cool deep fountain slept a thousand sunny

rays?

Tush! the world saw that, and often spoke thereof in heartless praise.

No, I will not tell thee, brother, if I could for grief and

tears

Love is silent as the stars that love us in their voiceless

spheres,

Thus far only she was ever, as she wander'd by my

side,

Like a rill of spirit-music flowing with ethereal tide Through my heart of hearts, and chasing all the discords lingering yet

On the ruffled waves of life that could not in an hour

forget.

What, if on my holiest moments burst detested thoughts

and vile,

Like a breath the cloud was scatter'd with the magic of her smile.

Soon we parted—but that radiance pass'd not into mist

or dreams,

Haunting still deep mystic caverns with the light of moonlight streams:

Yes, we parted— but that music did not die upon mine

ears,