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THE MISSION OF THE ANGEL OF DEATH.

"Go forth," said the Heavenly Father,

To one of his seraph train;

"Go forth on an errand of mercy

To the world of trouble and pain,

"And away from earth's noxious Some buds of beauty bring,

vapours

To bloom in the heavenly gardens,
'Neath the smiles of perpetual spring."

And the angel, with wing resplendent,
Went out from the heavenly band,

'Midst a chorus of joyful voices,
Resounding at God's right hand.

96 MISSION OF THE ANGEL OF DEATH.

Slowly night's gathering shadows
Closed round a mother mild,
Who, tearful and heavy-hearted,
Watched by her dying child.

Fevered, and restless, and moaning,

On his little bed he lay,

When the bright-winged angel drew near him, And kissed his last breath away.

So softly the chain was severed,
So gently was stayed the breath, -
It soothed the heart of the mourner,
And she blest the Angel of Death.

For she knew that the soul of her darling
Had gone to his Father above,
Clasped in the arms more tender

Than even her fondest love.

THRENODIA.

GONE, gone from us! and shall we see
Those sibyl leaves of destiny,

Those calm eyes, nevermore,

Those deep, dark eyes so warm and bright,
Wherein the fortunes of the man
Lay slumbering in prophetic light,
In characters a child might scan?
So bright, and gone forth utterly!
O stern word,-Nevermore!

The stars of those two gentle eyes

Will shine no more on earth:

Quenched are the hopes that had their birth,

As we watched them slowly rise,

Stars of a mother's fate;

And she would read them o'er and o'er,

Pondering, as she sate,

Over their dear astrology,

Which she had conned and conned before,

Deeming she needs must read aright

What was writ so passing bright.

And yet, alas! she knew not why

Her voice would falter in its song,

And tears would slide from out her eye,
Silent, as they were doing wrong.

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Her heart was like a windflower, bent
Even to breaking with the balmy dew,
Turning its heavenly nourishment

(That filled with tears its eyes of blue,
Like a sweet suppliant that weeps in prayer,
Making her innocency show more fair,
Albeit unwitting of the ornament)

Into a load too great for it to bear.

O stern word, - Nevermore!

The tongue that scarce had learned to claim

An entrance to a mother's heart

By that dear talisman, a mother's name,

Sleeps all forgetful of its art.

I loved to see the infant soul
(How mighty in the weakness
Of its untutored meekness !)
Peep timidly from out its nest,
His lips, the while,

Fluttering with half-fledged words,
Or hushing to a smile

That more than words expressed,
When his glad mother on him stole,

And snatched him to her breast!

O, thoughts were brooding in those eyes,

That would have soared, like strong-winged birds,

Far, far into the skies,

Gladdening the earth with song

And gushing harmonies,

Had he but tarried with us long!
O stern word, - Nevermore!

How peacefully they rest,
Cross-folded there

Upon his little breast,

Those small, white hands that ne'er were still before,

But ever sported with his mother's hair,

Or the plain cross that on her breast she wore!

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