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And as I toil through help and harm, And whilst on alien sh.o.r.es I dwell, I wear this flower as a charm, My heart repeats that tender spell: "Speed thee well! Speed well!"
It softly whispers, "Speed well!
This flower blue Be token true Of my true heart's true love for you!"
HOW MANY YEARS AGO?
How many years ago, love, Since you came courting me?
Through oak-tree wood and o'er the lea, With rosy cheeks and waistcoat gay, And mostly not a word to say,-- How many years ago, love, How many years ago?
How many years ago, love, Since you to Father spoke?
Between your lips a sprig of oak: You were not one with much to say, But Mother spoke for you that day,-- How many years ago, love, How many years ago?
So many years ago, love, That soon our time must come To leave our girl without a home;-- She's like her mother, love, you've said: --At her age I had long been wed,-- How many years ago, love, How many years ago?
For love of long-ago, love, If John has aught to say, When he comes up to us to-day, (A likely lad, though short of tongue,) Remember, husband, we were young,-- How many years ago, love, How many years ago?
"WITH A DIFFERENCE."
I'm weary waiting here, The chill east wind is sighing, The autumn tints are sere, The summer flowers are dying.
The river's sullen way Winds on through vacant meadows, The dying light of day Strives vainly with the shadows.
A footstep stirs the leaves!
The faded fields seem brighter, The sunset gilds the sheaves, The low'ring clouds look lighter.
The river sparkles by, Not all the flowers are falling, There's azure in the sky, And thou, my love, art calling.
THE LILY OF THE LAKE.
Over wastes of blasted heather, Where the pine-trees stand together, Evermore my footsteps wander, Evermore the shadows yonder Deepen into gloom.
Where there lies a silent lake, No song-bird there its thirst may slake, No suns.h.i.+ne now to whiteness wake The water-lily's bloom.
Some sweet spring-time long departed, I and she, the simple-hearted, Bride and bridegroom, maid and lover, Did that gloomy lake discover, Did those lilies see.
There we wandered side by side.
There it was they said she died.
But ah! in this I know they lied!
She will return to me!
Never, never since that hour Has the lake brought forth a flower.
Ever harshly do the sedges Some sad secret from its edges Whisper to the sh.o.r.e.
Some sad secret I forget.
The lily though will blossom yet: And when it blooms I shall have met My love for evermore.
FROM FLEETING PLEASURES.
A REQUIEM FOR ONE ALIVE.
From fleeting pleasures and abiding cares, From sin's seductions and from Satan's snares, From woes and wrath to penitence and prayers, Veni in pace!
Sweet absolution thy sad spirit heal; To G.o.dly cares that end in endless weal, To joys man cannot think or speak or feel, Vade in pace!
From this world's ways and being led by them, From floods of evil thy youth could not stem, From tents of Kedar to Jerusalem, Veni in pace!
Blest be thy worldly loss to thy soul's gain, Blest be the blow that freed thee from thy chain, Blest be the tears that wash thy spirit's stain, Vade in pace!
Oh, dead, and yet alive! Oh, lost and found!
Salvation's walls now compa.s.s thee around, Thy weary feet are set on holy ground.
Veni in pace!
Death gently garner thee with all the blest, In heavenly habitations be thou guest; To light perpetual and eternal rest, Vade in pace!
THE RUNAWAY'S RETURN.
It was on such a night as this, Some long unreal years ago, When all within were wrapp'd in sleep, And all without was wrapp'd in snow, The full moon rising in the east, The old church standing like a ghost, That, s.h.i.+vering in the wintry mist, And breathless with the silent frost, A little lad, I ran to seek my fortune on the main; I marvel now with how much hope and with how little pain!
It is of such a night as this, In all the lands where I have been, That memory too faithfully Has painted the familiar scene.
By all the sh.o.r.es, on every sea, In luck or loss, by night or day, My highest hope has been to see That home from which I ran away.
For this I toil'd, to this I look'd through many a weary year, I marvel now with how much hope, and with how little fear.
On such a night at last I came, But they were dead I loved of yore.
Ah, Mother, then my heart felt all The pain it should have felt before!
I came away, though loth to come, I clung, and yet why should I cling?
When all have gone who made it home, It is the shadow, not the thing.
A homeless man, once more I seek my fortune on the main: I marvel with how little hope, and with what bitter pain.
FANCY FREE.
A GIRL'S SONG.
