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All rough winds are hush'd and silent, golden light the meadow


And the last October roses daily wax more pale and fair;

They have laid a gather'd blossom on the breast of one who sleepeth

With a sunbeam on her hair.

Calm, and drap'd in snowy raiment she lies still, as one that dreameth,

And a grave sweet smile hath parted dimpled lips that may

not speak;

Slanting down, that narrow sunbeam like a ray of glory gleameth

On the sainted brow and cheek.

There is silence! They who watch her; speak no word of grief or wailing,

In a strange unwonted silence they gaze on and cannot cease, Though the pulse of life beat faintly, thought shrink back, and hope be failing,


They, like Aaron, "hold their peace."

While they gaze on her, the deep bell with its long slow pauses soundeth ;

They are silent-father-mother-love has nothing more to say:

Beating time to feet of Angels leading her where love aboundeth,

Tolls the heavy bell this day.

In their hearts, to its deep tolling, they count over all her meetness

To lie near their hearts and soothe them in all sorrows and all *om fears;

Her short life lies spread before them, but they cannot tell her sweetness,

Easily as tell her years.

Only daughter-Ah! how fondly thought around that lost name


Oft when lone your mother sitteth, she shall weep and droop her head,

She shall mourn her baby sempstress with those imitative fingers,

Drawing out her aimless thread.

In your father's Future cometh many a sad uncheer'd to


But in sleep shall three fair faces, heavenly-calm, towards him lean

Like a three-fold cord shall draw him through the weariness of


Nearer to the things unseen.

They must spare you, little Katie, with that smile of God's own giving,

Side by side with your sweet brothers in one grave must make you room;

Cover your exceeding beauty-more than beauty of the living-With the shadows of the tomb!

With the closing of your eyelids close the dreams of expectation, And so ends the fairest chapter in the records of their way: Therefore-O thou God most holy-God of rest and consolation, Be thou near to them this day!

-Be Thou near, when they shall nightly, by the bed of infant brothers,

Hear their soft and gentle breathing, and shall bless them on their knees;

And shall think how coldly falleth the white moonlight on the others,

In their bed beneath the trees.

Be thou near when they, they only, bear those faces in remem


And the number of their children, strangers ask them with a


And when other child-like faces touch them by the strong resemblance

To those turned to them erewhile.

Be Thou near, each chastened spirit, for its course and conflict nerving,

Let thy voice say, "Father-mother-Lo! thy treasures live above!

Now he strong, be strong, no longer cumbered overmuch with serving

At the shrine of human love."

Let them sleep! In course of ages e'en the Holy House shall crumble,

And the broad and stately steeple one day bend to its decline, And high arches, ancient arches, bowed and deck'd in clothing humble,

Creeping moss shall round them twine.

Ancient arches, old and hoary, sunny beams shall glimmer through them,

And invest them with a beauty we would fain they should not share;

And the moonlight slanting down them, the white moonlight, shall embue them

With a sadness dim and fair.

Then the soft green moss shall wrap you, and the world shall all forget you;

Life, and stir and toil and tumult unawares shall pass you by; Generations come and vanish, but it shall not grieve nor fret you,

That they sin, or that they sigh.

And the world, grown old in sinning, shall deny her first beginning,

And think scorn of words which whisper how that all must

pass away

Time's arrest and intermission shall account a vain tradition,

And a dream, the reckoning day.

Till His blast, a blast of terror, shall awake in shame and sadness Faithless millions to a vision of the failing earth and skies, And more sweet than song of angels, in their shout of joy and gladness,

Call the dead in Christ to rise!

Then by One Man's intercession, standing clear from their transgression,

Father-mother-you shall meet them fairer than they were before,

And have joy with the redeeméd-joy ear hath not heard— heart dreaméd,

Ay-for ever-evermore!

-Rhyming Chronicle.


(Written on the first page of a Lady's Album.)

AN humble follower in the muses train,
What shall I trace on this fair opening page?
'Tis an unwritten volume-free from stain:

Nor wit, nor wisdom, hope, nor sad presage
Have darkened or illumed it; and the while

I wish, dear friend, that here may never be Nor thoughts of folly, flattery, nor guile,

How shall I trace my earnest wish for thee?

Soon every page some friendly name will bear,
And some will wish thee affluence and ease;
And some a lengthy life and little care;

And beauty some; and some the power to please:
Kind wishes all; but these will pass away,

Like midnight dreams before the dawning morrow: I wish thee joy upon thy dying day,

And all through life a heart made pure by sorrow.

If earth were always bathed in golden light,
And day eternal reigned from pole to pole,
Oh! never, then, would burst on human sight

The glorious orbs that through heaven's concave roll:
So with our inner world 'twould ever be,

If joy's eternal sun illumined all; For never till 'tis darkened, do we see

The stars that spangle Sorrow's sable pall.

Therefore, I wish thee sorrow-not wild grief,
That canker-worm that feeds upon the soul,
But such as finds in Wisdom sweet relief,

And only mourns for sin's unloved control.
As gold from dross is purified by fire,

May sorrow purge thine heart from this vain world, And fit thine hand to strike an angel's lyre,

Where night's black banner is for ever furled.

St. Ives.



THE last fond parting hymn! its notes are borne
Solemnly, sweetly, o'er the heaving wave,
From yonder deck, to cheer the hearts that mourn,
Since he, the Mighty Captain! strong to save,
Still, as of old, is with his missioned few,
To guide their footsteps, and to comfort too!

They weep, and yet they shrink not: nature's ties
Have link'd them to the country of their birth;
They go to spend their prime 'neath foreign skies,
To dwell as strangers on a stranger-earth:
On, on they glide, and leave upon the shore,
Those whom in this life's scenes they meet no more.

They weep, and yet they shrink not-lo! they bear
The message of "glad tidings" o'er the sea!
Are they not followed by the fervent prayer
Of righteous men ?-availing shall it be !
In Faith they give up all for that reward
Reserv'd in heaven for those who love the Lord!

Another scene-a city's crowded square

Ah, what has hush'd that eager multitude;
The servant of the Crucified stands there,-

Bound to the fatal stake by hands as rude
As those which bound his Master to the tree-
And must he die? Oh, burst thy bands and flee!

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