ONLY WAITING. 217 Only Waiting. A very aged man in an almshouse was asked what he was doing now. He replied, "Only waiting." ONLY waiting till the shadows Of the day's last beam is flown: From the heart once full of day; Only waiting till the reapers Have the last sheaf gather'd home; And the autumn winds have come. And I hasten to depart. Only waiting till the angels Open wide the mystic gate, At whose feet I long have linger'd, Even now I hear their footsteps If they call me I am waiting, Only waiting till the shadows. Of the day's last beam is flown. THE FIRE-FLY. 219 The Fire-Fly. THE day has departed, and, far in the west, How mild, unobtrusive, and transient the ray! No noise or confusion is heard in their play; Now backward, now forward, incessant they veer, As gaily they move in their shining career. Thou wonder of childhood-mysterious light! Now low on the grass, and now high in the trees, They part, intermingle, and float on the breeze; How voiceless the music that guides them along! "T is nature's thanksgiving 't is silence of song. |