His was no middle flight; Then shall I murmur or complain No; but a father's heart is weak, Then blameless let him think and speak 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, I catch a view of dream-land beauty 'Tis a place where my loved have gathered, And where undying friendships glow. The clouds have all passed from that kingdom, That bright kingdom of the long ago. I've traveled away from that kingdom. I've tasted my share of life's pleasures, And now in the hush of the gloaming, To scenes on that far distant shore, 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 And rarely a smile for home or wife, 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. 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, IN MEMORIAM. (Lines written on the death of Miss Kate Montgomery.) Ah! broken is the rainbow arch That spanned our hearts with promise; Up with the dawn of broadening day As the quivering sunbeams chased away Let darkness dwell in vale and dell, And is there no light from realms above, Oh! Faith of the past, sorely tried! |