462 CAROLINE A. CHAMBERLIN. [1850-60. A spirit, from her changeful eye Looked forth, all saintly, mild and meek, Yet proudly, gloriously high, Looked forth — as with pure souls to speak. That look the lofty trust betrayed. Which most to virtuous deed doth stir — One might meet scorn, in guilt arrayed. Yet could not make her judgment err ! Who light of woman's worth could think, Who for himself scarce breathed a prayer — From that high glance, abashed, would shrink, To read his thought's deep falsehood there. Her life was what the many teach Alone — in lofty sounding lays, — It chimed with seraph song or speech — Itself a melody of praise. One felt, she on their path to heaven, A purely tranquil light had thrown ; And to their spirit's harp had given One more — perchance its sweetest tone THE SOUL'S VISITANTS. What are those strange, mysterious things, Those fleeting ones and bright ; That waken thus with unseen wings, The spirit's glimmering light? They come when earth seems dark with woe. They lift the vail of strife ; Thpy come, these lovely ones, to show The life within the life ! They steal the cloud of sorrow. That on the spirit lies ; And hue it with the morrow, The morrow of the skies. They come like beauteous seraphs, And brightly glance awhile, Adown the soul's deep waters ; Then vanish like a smile. These voiceless ones and lovely, In song I would them twine ; That they may speak to other hearts What they have breathed to mine. But in the world of language. They have no home, no place ; A beam of light upon the soul They leave — their only trace ! Think'st thou, thou know'st the poet, By the light song he sings? The loveliest treasures of the soul, Must aye be hidden things ! TO A MOSS PLANT. O LITTLE plant, whose home is made Deep in the forest's somber shade. Why hast thou o'er my soul more power Than holds each beauteous garden flower ? Why shouldst thou be so dear to me. That I should leave the rose for thee ? — The bright carnation's queenly grace, To gaze upon thy pale, meek face ? Is it because thou seem'st the care Of Him alone who placed thee there? While lavish wealth and love unite To shield the garden plant from blight ! Aye, this it is, and more — thou art The type of many a noble heart. That bravely bears its humble fate, By human love left desolate !
