280 SOPHIA HELEN OLIVER. [1840-50. By mountain, stream, or hollow, Wherever man may go ! And never for another Will the shadow leave his side — More faithful than a brother, Or all the world beside. Ye remind me, ye remind me, Shadows, pale and cold ! That friends to earth did bind me, Now sleeping in the mould ; The young, the loved, the cherished. Whose mission early done. In life's bright noontide perished. Like shadows in the sun. The departed, the departed — 1 greet them with my tears — The true and gentle-hearted. The friends of earlier years. Their wings like shadows o'er me, Methinks, are spread for aye, Around, behind, before me. To guard the devious way. MARK THE HOURS THAT SHINE. In fair Italia's lovely land, Deep in a garden bower, A dial marks with shadowy hand Each sun-illumined hour ; And on its fair, unsullied face. Is carved this flowing line (Some wandering bard has paused to ti'ace) ; " I mark the hours that shine." Oh, ye Avho in a friend's fair face Mark the defects alone. Where many a sweet, redeeming grace Doth for each fault atone — Go, from the speaking dial learn A lesson all divine ; From faults that wound your fancy turn. And " mark the hours that shine." When bending o'er the glowing page. Traced by a god-like mind. Whose burning thoughts from age to age Shall light and bless mankind — Why will ye seek mid gleaming gold For dross in every line. Dark spots upon the sun behold, Nor " mark the hours that shine." Oh, ye who bask in fortune's light, Whose cups are flowing o'er, Yet through the weary day and night Still pine and sigh for more — Why will ye, when so richly blest, Ungratefully repine ? Why sigh for joys still unpossessed, Nor " mark the hours that shine ? " And ye who toil from morn till night To earn your scanty bread. Are there no blessings rich and bright Around your pathway spread ? The conscience clear, the cheerful heart, The trust in love divine, All bid desponding care depart. And " mark the hours that shine." And ye who bend o'er friendship's tomb, In deep and voiceless woe, Who sadly feel no second bloom Your blighted hearts can know — Why will ye mourn o'er severed ties. While friends around you twine ? Go ! yield your lost one to the skies. And " mark the hours that shine." Deep in the garden of each heart There stands a dial fair, And often is its snowy chart Dark with the clouds of care. Then go, and every shadow chase That dims its light divine. And write upon its gleaming face — " I mark the liours that shine."
