POEMS.
77
Will she grow up, will she linger
Still a child? or leave a smart
In the bosom of her mother
If sad death should bid them part?
God the holy,
Christ the lowly,
Shield thee wheresoe'er thou art!
Still a child? or leave a smart
In the bosom of her mother
If sad death should bid them part?
God the holy,
Christ the lowly,
Shield thee wheresoe'er thou art!
BETWEEN TWO WORLDS.
"Betwixt two worlds life hovers like a star."
A TENDER touch athwart the sky,
A soft sweet light,
Drawn by a Spirit Hand that parts
The day from night.
A soft sweet light,
Drawn by a Spirit Hand that parts
The day from night.
A dying red, a faint pink hue—
A purple shroud
Strewn round the setting sun that drops
'Neath rolling cloud.
A purple shroud
Strewn round the setting sun that drops
'Neath rolling cloud.
And myriad stars creep out and shine
O'er that still breast
Of vaulted blue, so calm and deep
In tranquil rest.
O'er that still breast
Of vaulted blue, so calm and deep
In tranquil rest.
A hush, a silence o'er the earth,
A look divine,
As from the eyes of One who sees
Farther than mine!
A look divine,
As from the eyes of One who sees
Farther than mine!
