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310 FOREST MELODIES.
Has wintry death o'er thy path been sweeping ? Are those thou hast loved in its darkness sleeping ? Dost thou weep that the beautiful flowers spring
forth, And awak'ning melodies gladden the earth, While voices long hush'd in the silence of death, Shall wake not again with the sweet spring's
breath ?
Look up at that bow in the heart's clear sky, That pledge of the soul's immortality! It glows 'neath the clouds that envelop thee here, The gospel—it speaks of a deathless sphere! Then arise! arise with the gladsome spring, And partake of the joyous awakening.
1845.
TO THEOPHILUS. I've a home of still seclusion,
Where I sit me down to write, Far from hurry and confusion,
In the dim and curtain'd light.
And this home is peaceful, happy, Not a jar of discord here—
Yet to-day I'm sadly musing With a slowly falling tear:
Thinking of the home of childhood, Where my earlier springs have smiled; |
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