POETRY KATIE, AGED FIVE YEARS. Asleep in Jesus. All rough winds are hush'd and silent, golden light the meadow steepeth, 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 → 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 lingers 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 morrow, But in sleep shall three fair faces, heavenly-calm, towards him lean Like a three-fold cord shall draw him through the weariness of sorrow, 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 livingWith 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 remembrance, And the number of their children, strangers ask them with a smile; 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 heardheart dreaméd, Ay-for ever-evermore! -Rhyming Chronicle. "I WISH THEE SORROW." (Written on the first page of a Lady's Album.) AN humble follower in the muses train, Nor wit, nor wisdom, hope, nor sad presage 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 beauty some; and some the power to please: 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, And only mourns for sin's unloved control. 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. WILLIAM ILOTT. FAITH TRIUMPHANT. THE last fond parting hymn! its notes are borne They weep, and yet they shrink not: nature's ties They weep, and yet they shrink not-lo! they bear 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 |