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Than to doubt like mine a prey;
While away, far away,

Turns my heart, for ever trying

Some new hope for each new day.

"When the shadows veil the meadows, And the sunset's golden ladders

Sink from twilight's walls of grey,—
From the window of my dreaming,
I can see his sickle gleaming,
Cheery-voiced can hear him teaming
Down the locust-shaded way;
But away, swift away,

Fades the fond delusive seeming,]
And I kneel again to pray.

"When the growing dawn is showing,
And the barn-yard cock is crowing,
And the horned moon pales away;
From a dream of him awaking,
Every sound my heart is making
Seems a footstep of his taking.

Then I hush the thought, and say,
'Nay, nay, he's away!'

Ah! my heart, my heart is breaking
For the dear one far away."

Look up, Martha! worn and swarthy,
Glows a face of manhood worthy :
"Robert!" "Martha!" all they say.

O'er went wheel and reel together,
Little cared the owner whither;
Heart of lead is heart of feather,
Noon of night is noon of day!
Come away, come away!

When such lovers meet each other,
Why should prying idlers stay?

Quench the timber's fallen embers,
Quench the red leaves in December'
Hoary rime and chilly spray.

But the hearth shall kindle clearer,
Household welcomes sound sincerer,
Heart to loving heart draw nearer,
When the bridal bells shall say:

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No bird-song floated down the hill,
The tangled bank below was still;

No rustle from the birchen stem,
No ripple from the water's hem.

The dusk of twilight round us grew,
We felt the falling of the dew;

For from us, ere the day was done,
The wooded hills shut out the sun.

But on the river's farther side
We saw the hill-tops glorified,-

A tender glow, exceeding fair,
A dream of day without its glare.

With us the damp, the chill, the gloom :
With them the sunset's rosy bloom;

While dark, through willowy vistas seen,
The river rolled in shade between.

From out the darkness where we trod,
We gazed upon those hills of God,

Whose light seemed not of moon or sun.
We spake not, but our thought was one.

We paused, as if from that bright shore Beckoned our dear ones gone before;

And stilled our beating hearts to hear
The voices lost to mortal ear.

Sudden our pathway turned from night;
The hills swung open to the light;

Through their green gates the sunshine showed.
A long, slant splendour downward flowed.

Down glade and glen and bank it rolled;
It bridged the shaded stream with gold;
And, borne on piers of mist, allied
The shadowy with the sunlit side.

"So," prayed we, when our feet draw near
The river dark, with mortal fear,

"And the night cometh chill with dew,
O Father! let thy light break through!

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So let the hills of doubt divide,

So bridge with faith the sunless tide!

"So let the eyes that fail on earth
On thy eternal hills look forth;

"And in thy beckoning angels know
The dear ones whom we loved below!"


My heart was heavy, for its trust had been Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong. So, túrning gloomily from my fellow-men,

One summer Sabbath-day I strolled among The green mounds of the village burial-place; Where, pondering how all human love and hate Find one sad level; and how, soon or late,

Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face,
And cold hands folded over a still heart,
Pass the green threshold of our common grave,
Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart,
Awed for myself, and pitying my race,

Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave,
Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!


ANOTHER hand is beckoning us,
Another call is given;

And glows once more with angel-steps
The path which reaches Heaven.

Our young and gentle friend, whose smile
Made brighter summer hours,

Amid the frosts of autumn time
Has left us with the flowers.

No paling of the cheek of bloom
Forewarned us of decay;

No shadow from the Silent Land
Fell round our sister's way.

The light of her young life went down,

As sinks behind the hill

The glory of a setting star,

Clear, suddenly, and still.

As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed
Eternal as the sky;

And like the brook's low song, her voice,

A sound which could not die.

And half we deemed she needed not

The changing of her sphere,
To give to Heaven a Shining Oné,
Who walked an angel here.

The blessing of her quiet life

Fell on us like the dew;

And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed, Like fairy blossoms grew.

Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds

Were in her very look ;

We read her face, as one who reads
A true and holy book:

The measure of a blessed hymn

To which our hearts could move;
The breathing of an inward psalm;
A canticle of love.

We miss her in the place of prayer,
And by the hearth-fire's light;
We pause beside her door to hear
Once more her sweet "Good-night!"

There seems a shadow on the day
Her smile no longer cheers;
A dimness on the stars of night,
Like eyes that look through tears.

Alone unto our Father's will

One thought hath reconciled;
That He whose love exceedeth ours
Hath taken home his child.

Fold her, O Father! in thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between

Our human hearts and thee.

Still let her mild rebuking stand
Between us and the wrong,

And her dear memory serve to make
Our faith in Goodness strong..

And grant that she who, trembling, here
Distrusted all her powers,

May welcome to her holier home
The well-beloved of ours.

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