72
POEMS.
The golden flames are Love that mounts o'er strife;
The ashes, our dead Hopes that earth lies low;
The ruddy sparks are Friendships on our way,
Lightening the toilsome path, and making sweet
The nooks and corners where the shadows lay,
All intertwined round worn and weary feet.
But list! the clock strikes three, I bid good-night,
And on my fire regretful glances bend,
I look back yearning on its aspect bright,
And own in truth I boast one constant friend!
The ashes, our dead Hopes that earth lies low;
The ruddy sparks are Friendships on our way,
Lightening the toilsome path, and making sweet
The nooks and corners where the shadows lay,
All intertwined round worn and weary feet.
But list! the clock strikes three, I bid good-night,
And on my fire regretful glances bend,
I look back yearning on its aspect bright,
And own in truth I boast one constant friend!
TO LITTLE DEAR.
A NEW YEAR'S WISH,
A GLAD New Year! with what a mute caress
The words do fall as here I whisper low
Into thine ear this flood of tenderness
That seems to echo, "Sweet, I love thee so."
The words do fall as here I whisper low
Into thine ear this flood of tenderness
That seems to echo, "Sweet, I love thee so."
A glad New Year! a peaceful lot be thine,
A happy household in a world of strife,
Thyself the ruling priestess of a shrine,
Wherein do meet the mother and the wife.
A happy household in a world of strife,
Thyself the ruling priestess of a shrine,
Wherein do meet the mother and the wife.
Thy little Christ-child lying in his cot,
With sleepy eye and days of restful ease;
How blessed and happy is his tranquil lot,
He feels no pang of bygone memories.
With sleepy eye and days of restful ease;
How blessed and happy is his tranquil lot,
He feels no pang of bygone memories.
