His was no middle flight;
He loved the light of honor's star
And the holy cause of right;
But his spirit to realms of bliss
On snowy pinions sped,
And in a brighter world than this
Now dwells my boy that's dead.

Then shall I murmur or complain
In this my humble rhyme?
And would I call him back again,
To all the woes of time?

No; but a father's heart is weak,
And vain a father's head;

Then blameless let him think and speak
Of his dear boy that's dead.

THE LONG AGO.

I sit in the deepening twilight

While the soft western breezes blow, And the radiant hues of glory

Are fading from the sunset's glow. I gaze at the slow creeping shadows Extending o'er the silent plain, Pursuing close the fading glories

That vanish from the western main.

And out of the depth of the shadows,
And out of the gathering gloom,

I catch a view of dream-land beauty
In a land where amaranths bloom,
'Tis a kingdom of rare devotion,
"Tis the realm of the long ago,

'Tis a place where my loved have gathered, And where undying friendships glow.

The clouds have all passed from that kingdom,
And left not a trace of their flight;
The sun is never dimmed in day time,
Nor the moon ever hid by night;
No twilight darkens the landscape,
No storms or tempests ever blow,-
'Tis the beautiful land of Beulah,

That bright kingdom of the long ago.

I've traveled away from that kingdom.
Afar on the journey of life;

I've tasted my share of life's pleasures,
And borne a full share in its strife.

And now in the hush of the gloaming,
As one in some enchanting dream,
I see through the rifts of the cloud-banks
Bright forms and holy faces gleam.
And weary my spirit flies backward

To scenes on that far distant shore,
And communes again with loved ones,
As in the holy time of yore.

What would I give if it were real

This vision of the twilight hour?If time and change and war and trial Were robbed of their destructive power And I could clasp again their hands

And feel again the glow of truth That kindled oft in beaming eyes

And warmed the trustful heart of youth. It cannot be; those forms are phantoms That people memory's busy train— With hopes that long ago were blighted And joys that ne'er shall bloom again, But let me still the vision cherish;

"Twere sweeter far to feel the bliss Of sun-bright days that long have vanished Than dwell among the clouds of this.

It cannot be; yet as some ship,

That sails around this earthly sphere, When furthest from the port she left Is then in truth fast drawing near The land from which she first did sail; So, my life-bark shall reach that shore. Life's heaving ocean circled quite, And anchor there forevermore.

WHAT FOR?

Up from bed in the early morn,

Out in the whirl of the day's mad strife

With scarcely a moment for hearts forlorn
As on the rushing tide I'm borne;

And rarely a smile for home or wife,
And what is the rushing for?

Pressing on with unfaltering feet,

With mind and heart under constant strain,

And never a pause in road or street

To cheer the hearts of the friends I meet

Or soothe the brow of sorrow and pain.
And what is the straining for?

Pining, striving, plodding along,

Blindly groping for some object dear, Beyond the reach of the common throngThat never was named in tale or songSome green oasis in the desert drear, And what is the pining for?

Living the life of a toiling slave

Forced to his tasks by stern decree,
While all the assurance I can have,
Is, I'm hastening onward to the grave
And soon shall be in eternity,
Then what am I living for?

IN MEMORIAM.

(Lines written on the death of Miss Kate Montgomery.)

Ah! broken is the rainbow arch

That spanned our hearts with promise;
Let the night winds tramp a funeral march,
Our hopes have departed from us;
Yes in the waves of the Stygian river
Our hopes lie buried forever.

Up with the dawn of broadening day
Her spirit winged its flight,

As the quivering sunbeams chased away
The fleeing shadows of night,—
Up to the broad expanse of light
Beyond our mortal sight.

Let darkness dwell in vale and dell,
And clouds o'er earth may hover;
The life of her we loved so well
With all its hopes, is over;-
The true, the good, the beautiful
Has passed away forever.

And is there no light from realms above,
To pierce the gloom around us?
No recompense from the world of love
For the broken ties that bound us?
No soft, sweet whisper from afar?
No gleam from her beauteous life-star?

Oh! Faith of the past, sorely tried!
Oh! Hopes, too soon departed!
Come back from the dark Stygian tide
To cheer the broken-hearted,-