|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
MY NEW HOME. 369
Pilgrims of succeeding years,
Who are journeying near her rest, Oft shall pause with thoughts of gloom, In the shade of Rachel's tomb.
MY NEW HOME. And here I must watch, in their beautiful light, The stars of the evening all radiant and bright; And here I must trace the soft moonlight of even, And list to the swell of the wild winds of heaven; Here watch the fierce storm on its dark wintry
wing, And wait for the smile and the music of spring.
I must hold communion with scenes that are new: The fields and the forests, which no w meet my view, Are all strange as the friends who surround me
here,— I brush from my eyelid one sorrowful tear; For, what if that friend, who is dearest of all, Should behold the sad tear from my eyelid fall!
Would he chide me for weeping ? He knows my
heart,— He knows for his sake I am willing to part With scenes most familiar, with friends most ■■■
beloved, With haunts where my footsteps have formerly