A LETTER.
"Make haste! make haste, my darling!—the long, long year has flown;
At last, O best and dearest, my heart can claim its own!
I bore the weary waiting, but now the end is nigh,
Each little moment lingers as if 't would never fly.
At last, O best and dearest, my heart can claim its own!
I bore the weary waiting, but now the end is nigh,
Each little moment lingers as if 't would never fly.
"Through days of anxious toiling thy face was as a charm
To soothe my troubled spirit, to nerve my fainting arm,
Whatever hopes were darkened, whatever cares oppressed,
The thought of thee was always like blessed dreams of rest.
To soothe my troubled spirit, to nerve my fainting arm,
Whatever hopes were darkened, whatever cares oppressed,
The thought of thee was always like blessed dreams of rest.
"The little home we talked of is ready, fresh and bright,
I almost see you smiling beside its hearth to-night;
I almost see you smiling beside its hearth to-night;
