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She had died at yester-midnight, dying as the bell peal'd
Heavy-hearted I return'd — I could not bear her corse to
Whom I just had seen apparell'd like one of the far
Yes, I felt my heart was broken! though for years it did
not die, But it must be with its treasure up in yon eternal sky, God, my Father, He was there
blessed Saviour, 'twas His home, Adeline, and she who bore me, harbor'd there, no more to
And my earthly path was clouded, all its lingering gleams
had fled, Save the memories of communion with the living and the
Oh, they sicken'd not, nor faded into fond imaginings,
things : Whilome they were golden lamps that o'er our pilgrim
pathway shone, Whose dear light we fondly bless'd, and wended unrepining And when number'd with the past they sank not in the
misty sea With the foul and base-born glimmer of the world's false
hearted glee, But majestically rose, an apotheosis of light, Till they clomb the dark-blue heavens, stars for ever 'mid
the night; And thence shining on our pathway from their glorious
home afar, Tell us of the things that have been, that they shall be, and
Brother, I have told thee all my gloomy tale of fear and
Ah, forgive me, for I could not die and keep it pent
withinSince she went, this heart's beloved, thirteen dreary years
have pass'd, Something tells me in my bosom, this — joy, joy! — shall
my last. Brother, I have lived and roam'd in tracking those I once
beguiled, To essay with me sin's fearful dark interminable wild;
Days and nights of supplication I have agonized for them, Till to all, 'mid storm and shipwreck, beam'd the Star of
Nothing now remains for lifetime — take
fond farewell; If a heart like mine can bless, Heaven bless thee more
than heart can tell ! Grant that all my dark experience may be imaged back in
light, When reflected from the sunny waters of thy spirit bright; Till thy race on earth is finish'd, and ye hasten to complete Those our mother's vision saw, a blessed band at Jesus'
And when I am dead, dear brother, lay me by the sacred
That o'ershades this heart's beloved. Fare thee well
Trinity College, 1845.
THE THINGS THAT ARE.
Ο έστιν ον όντως.
The closing of a stormy night:— the wrecks
Once more the
up, as if in fear
Is such the sky that stretches o’er the world ?
and o’er its sweep
Tush, tush, bend down thine ear and list again :