THE RETURN. The cottage in the peaceful vale, Without the porch, one summer noon, The Hermit-dweller see! In musing silence bending down, The book upon his knee. Who stands between thee and the sun?- The mind a razed, defeatured scroll; Unto the distant nest; O'er hill and waste, from land to land, And there, behold the Wanderer stand LIGHT AND DARKNESS. When earth is fair, and winds are still, So silent they the place so lone- That haunt where life has been: And his to watch, as in the past It is not what the leech can cure An erring chord, a jarring madness: A calm so deep, it must endure So deep, thou scarce canst call it sadness; A summer night, whose shadow falls Yet, through the gloom, she seem'd to feel Close by his side she loved to steal, O sweet the jasmine's buds of snow, To shoreless deeps away; But heavenward from the faithful heart A sweeter incense stole;— The onward waves their source desert, But Soul returns to Soul! Day closed-A Child had seen the light; She rested in undreaming night. Spring rose-The lady's grave was green; A gentle Boy, with thoughtful mien. Years fled:He wore a manly face, And then he died! Behold, before ye, WITHIN AND WITHOUT. WITHOUT. THE winds are bitter; the skies are wild ; From the roof comes plunging the drowning rain : Without, in tatters, the world's poor child Sobbeth abroad her grief, her pain! No one heareth her, no one heedeth her : But Hunger, her friend, with his bony hand Grasps her throat, whispering huskily "What dost Thou in a Christian land?" |