PURE AS THE LILIES.
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��And so, I have taken my happiness in one delicious draught, and now hold life's empty goblet in my hands. I have been waiting for this ; my fate was sealed when, a twelve-month ago, they told me that my voice was irre- coverably gone ; for with it I had lost my art, and that to me was simply life. Well, it is best so. It may be in that unknown beyond, whither I am hasten- ing, I shall find mine own again, and my soul shall be satisfied. Today I have been living again my old life, a stranger and an alien, and yet tenderly cared for by warm, loving hearts. I suppose they mourned when they dis- covered that their wild, willful March had flown. The remembrance of the pain I caused them has been my only regret in this new life of mine — this wonderful, grand life — and I owe it all to you, my mother's friend and mine. After I am gone, you will send to my dear foster-parents, my good-bye mes- sage. I have told them all. Of my
��vain struggles to find my place among the eager, restless throng in the great, busy world, with only a wild, untrained voice and an unconquerable will to aid me. Of my finding a friend, the dear- est friend of my angel mother, who pa- tiently, lovingly bore with my capri- cious, impetuous nature, and with lavish prodigality helped me on toward the wished for golden goal. And then how destiny pressed close upon me, with his black pinions o'ershadowing me, and the fiat was — "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." Possibly they may not understand 'it all. They will think sadly that my life has been a failure, and it may have been ; still I am glad to have lived it. It has been grand, glorious, and yet I am a little weary, and am impatient for the end. And very soon it came, and March went from the storm, and the tempest, the longing and the pain, into light in- effable, and peace eternal.
��PURE AS THE LILIES.
��BY HENRIETTA E. PAGE.
��She held out her hands for the lilies. Her blue eyes so eager and bright. And holding them close to her bosom.
��She murmured her soft toned
��■Dood night."
��"Ah! baby, my own little darling. Though the lilies be never so fair. The gold at their hearts is no brighter
strands of your hair."
��Than the glinting
��As you in my arms slumber lightly. Your bright lashes kiss your fair cheek, - I pray the kind God to keep safely Aly own little blossom so meek.
Then laying her safe in her cradle. The lilies clasped close to her breast,
And kissing her dewy lips softly, I leave her alone to her rest.
The breath of the flowers is no sweeter . Than the breath of my babe I ween, The petals no whiter or purer Than the soul of my wee heart's queen.
South Boston, Mass.
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