27(i FORTUNATUS COSBY [1840-50. Features that no clouds encumber, Forms refreshed by sweetest slumber, And, of all that blessed number, Only one was old. Graceful were they as the willow By the zephyr stirred ! Bright as childhood when expecting An approving word ! Fair as when from earth they faded, Ere the burnished brow was shaded. Or, the hair with silver braided. Or lament was heard. Roundabout in silence moving Slowly to and fro — Life-like as I knew and loved them In their spring-time glow ; — Beaming with a loving luster. Close and closer still they cluster Round my chair that radiant muster, Just as long ago. Once, the aged, breathing comfort O'er my fainting cheek. Whispered words of precious meaning Only she could speak, Scarce could I my rapture smother. For I knew it was my mother, And to me there was no other Saint-like and so meek ! Then the pent-up fount of feeling Stirred its inmost deep — Brimming o'er its frozen surface From its guarded keep, On my heart its drops descending. And for one glad moment lending Dreams of Joy's ecstatic blending. Blessed my charmed sleep. Bright and brighter grew the vision With each gathering tear, Till the past was all before me In its radiance clear ; And again we read at even — Hoped, beneath the summer heaven, Hopes that had no bitter leaven, No disturbing fear. All so real seemed each presence. That one word I spoke — Only one of old endearment. That dead silence broke. But the angels who were keeping Stillest watch while I was sleeping, Left me o'er the embers weeping — Fled when I awoke. But, as ivy clings the greenest On abandoned walls ; And as echo Hngers sweetest In deserted halls : — Thus, the sunlight that we borrow From the past to gild our sorrow, On the dark and dreaded morrow Like a blessing falls. MY FIEST LOYE. 'Tis twenty years ! — ^yes, twenty years Have fled into the past ! Oh, twenty long and weaiy years, Since I beheld thee last ! They say that time has brush'd away The brightness from thy cheek ; And, that thy light and ringing laugh Is more subdued and meek ! 'Tis twenty years, — yes, twenty years ! But thy beloved face Is mirrored in my memory yet, In all its girlish grace ; And thou art still the same to me. Thine eye as brightly blue, — Thy cheek as warm, thy lip as red, Thy heart as kind and true ! ,
