My voice shall be sweet in the maiden's ear,
As the voice of her lover whispering near;
And my footsteps so soft by the infant's bed,
He will deem it his mother's anxious tread;
And his violet eyes will gently close,
As I kiss from his bright young lip the rose.
I am but the SENT of a higher Power,
And his, and not mine, is the dreaded hour.
Then trust ye in One who can break the tomb,
And terror shall flee from its mournful gloom!
SWEET island in a hollow sea,
What spirits walk thy shore?~
What close embosomed mystery
Gives soul and beauty unto thee,
Ne'er seen and felt before?
What secrets in thy being live,
Never to mortals known?
What bright revealments canst thou give
Of human being gone?
O tell us, floating gem of even,
Where do thy wanderings lead?
Say, is to thee the mission given
To walk the unseen shores of heaven,
And there thine urns to feed
With the pure light that angel wings
Shed on the dreamy air,
And bathe thy rays in those soft springs
That gush forever there?
Art thou a world, thou fairy light,
Slow moving through the sky?
A world so radiantly dight,
That heaven can scarcely be more bright Unto an angel's eye?
Art thou a world? What spirits walk
Amid thy beauteous flowers?
In what sweet language do they talk?
Is it as soft as ours?
O tell us, do they talk of love,
And have they gentle hearts?
Do they forever faithful prove
To souls with which they 're interwove,—
Souls to which love imparts
So pure a glow, so full a bliss,
That heaven hath naught more sweet? O, hast thou aught for us like this, Within thy bowers to meet?
Does sin O answer us, thou star!
Does sin thy sons o'ershade?
Are they as earthly beings are?
Do fearful crimes and passions mar
All mortals God has made?
Speak, burning world! hast thou been trod By footsteps all divine?
And offered to the Son of God
A mountain bed and shrine?
To shade his eyes, with woe grown dim,
Hast reared the jagged thorn?
Or furnished forth a cross for Him,
And tortured every quivering limb,
And soothed his pains with scorn?
O tell us, tell us, has his blood
Hallowed thy radiant flowers?
His prayers, outpoured in solitude,
Made consecrate thy bowers?
No answer from thy light we wring,
No token thence we wile;
Idle is all our questioning:
Enough for us our faith to bring,
And lay it in thy smile;
Enough to gaze upon thee there,
In the soft blue of even;
For while we gaze, a trustful prayer
Bears up our hearts to Heaven.
BY MRS. CAROLINE M. SAWYER.
THE cheerful throng has passed away,
The minstrel's lay is ended,
And memories of the past come back,
In mournful visions blended!
I muse on days long fled and gone,
On scenes once fondly cherished,
On fickle minds, and altered hearts,
On friendships that have perished.
Alas! how vain to wake the past!
How worse than vain regretting! Why should I still remember those, Whom I have found forgetting?
Ah, idly was it all bestowed,
The heartfelt love I bore them! But idler are these trickling tears, For they cannot restore them!
I'll weep no more! ye haunting dreams
To memory's caves be banished!
Sure life hath joys in store, as dear
As any that have vanished!
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