The Snow-Drop Part 8

Alas! that we so soon must part.

Ere budding friends.h.i.+p's bloom; Remain, sweet germ, within each heart, And thrive beyond the tomb.

Receive, dear friend, these parting lines, Though humble they appear; Earth, with its joys, are fading fast, With all that love us here.

Then may we be prepared to soar Where ransomed spirits blend; There may our souls in love unite, Where friends.h.i.+p fears no end.

FAREWELL TO A BROTHER.

Farewell, farewell, my dearest brother, Thou must be absent for awhile, May no dark clouds around thee gather, May health and fortune on thee smile.

In fancy's dreams, I'll oft be with thee, On thy fond heart my image bear, And while I hope again to meet thee, The pleasing thought my heart shall cheer.

TO W.H.D.

AN ADOPTED BROTHER.

The home of thy childhood thou didst not forget, The friends which dwelt with thee are dear to thee yet, Thy warm friendly greeting betokens it now, The smile of pure friends.h.i.+p still beams from thy brow.

I knew that thy heart was so faithful and true, Thou wouldst not forget, though thou bad'st us adieu; For thou didst rejoice with us when we were blest, And sympathize with us, however distressed.

Say, wilt thou remember us, while thou dost live, And cherish our virtues, our frailties forgive?

O think of us always, where'er thou dost roam, For thy living image dwells ever at home.

But there is a home which is better than this, The inmates all drink at the fountain of bliss; A friend, than a father or mother more dear, More close than a brother, this friend will adhere.

Wouldst find that blest home? go, and follow the road, Which Christ and the prophets have marked out, to G.o.d; The Spirit will teach you, and guide, lest you stray, While legions of angels shall throng round your way.

LINES

TO A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION.

AN ACROSTIC.

D ark frowning clouds obscure thy sky, E ach future prospect fades; B ut there's a kind protector nigh, O n him rely for aid.

R ich treasures are locked up in store, A ffliction turns the key; H ow oft when dreadful thunders roar, M ay showers bid famine flee.

O sister, never yield to fears W hen tempests roar aloud, E 'en then, the bow of hope appears, R ich hues bedeck yon cloud.

LINES TO A SISTER.

Susan, I long again to greet thee, Fain would I clasp thee in my arms, While that bland smile o'erspread thy features, Which to thy brow adds nameless charms.

Dear sister, I can still remember When first I clasped thee to my breast; I viewed thee as a priceless treasure, Bestowed to make life's pathway blest.

Although a little tiny creature, Devoid of friends.h.i.+p, love, or care, Yet, I highly prized the casket, I knew a sister's heart throbbed there.

And when I heard, in lisping accents, Affection flowing from thy tongue, With strange delight, I listened to it, As though some little cherub sung.

When in the garden thou wast straying, To play among thy fragrant flowers, I thought that Flora's fairest blossoms Would vainly strive to vie with ours.

Dear sister, canst not thou remember, When I'd been absent for awhile, With what a boyant step thou'dst meet me, And greet me with thy sunny smile?

And, when fatigued, I sought retirement, Or left thee for a few short hours, Oft them wouldst steal into my chamber And strew my couch with fragrant flowers.

I trust that flame is not extinguished, Although our duty bade us part; I trust it still is burning brightly Upon the altar of thy heart.

O come, and join the fireside circle Around the old paternal hearth; Come, let thy smiles and songs delight us, They are like sunlight to the earth.

The little birds are singing sweetly; The verdant fields perfume the air; Our garden walks would be most pleasant, If Susan's voice was ringing there.

Adieu, dear sister, for the present, But tell me, wilt thou not be here Ere the wintry winds are sighing Requiems o'er a dying year?

TO MY BROTHER.

THE SCENES OF OUR CHILDHOOD.

Far back, through the vista of long buried years, I look through this valley of sorrow and tears; Like pictures, in bright glowing colors displayed, The scenes of my life's rosy morn are portrayed.

An image, the foreground presents to my sight, Which shed o'er my pathway its radiant light; An image of him who first held my soft hand, And shouted with joy when his sister could stand;

From him, I first caught the sweet magical art Of turning to language, the thoughts of my heart; When first to the school-house he went as my guide.

His heart swelled with pleasure, affection and pride.

Delighted, we ranged o'er the hillside, in spring, And listened with rapture to hear the birds sing; Then stopped in the pasture to see the lambs play, As frolicsome, cheerful, and happy as they.

We ranged o'er the meadow, the forest, and bowers, Picked berries for mother, and gathered wild flowers, Dear brother, how oft by the rosebush we sat, While you caught the b.u.t.terflies under your hat.

With gay happy hearts to the woodland we strayed, When autumn its rich pensive beauty displayed; The robin was chanting her sweet farewell song, While blithe little squirrels went skipping along.

Those bright little rogues which the husbandmen scorn, Sly'd into their holes with their cheeks full of corn; The clear mellow sunlight, in quivering streams, Sent through the tall tree tops its roseate beams.

Jack Frost and October, when evenings grew cold, Had drest up the forest in crimson and gold; The bright leaves were borne on the wings of the breeze, While we picked up beach-nuts from under the trees.