114
POEMS.
Infant sister, infant brother,
Yet one more, and still another—
Severed links of houshold chain,
When will they unite again?
Hears the soul this answer given—
They shall meet who live for heaven.
Yet one more, and still another—
Severed links of houshold chain,
When will they unite again?
Hears the soul this answer given—
They shall meet who live for heaven.
Now each golden harp is strung,
Fall these notes from every tongue;
Pure in heart, in word, in deed,
This white garment mortals need;
In robe like this while here below,
An angel's bliss may mortal know.
Each day let Duty's task be done—
By victor is the laurel won—
On earth who angel-like will live,
In heaven an angel's crown receive.
Fall these notes from every tongue;
Pure in heart, in word, in deed,
This white garment mortals need;
In robe like this while here below,
An angel's bliss may mortal know.
Each day let Duty's task be done—
By victor is the laurel won—
On earth who angel-like will live,
In heaven an angel's crown receive.
Purple glows the eastern sky,
Gray dawn opes her golden eye;
And though morn, with rosy fingers,
Lifts those lids, the vision lingers;
And its moral is imprest
Deep within the sleeper's breast,
While the truant soul back
To its home has flown;
To its home in the bosom
Of Norah Nohone.
Gray dawn opes her golden eye;
And though morn, with rosy fingers,
Lifts those lids, the vision lingers;
And its moral is imprest
Deep within the sleeper's breast,
While the truant soul back
To its home has flown;
To its home in the bosom
Of Norah Nohone.
