468 BENJAMIN ST. JAMES FRY. [1850-60. " O child of sorrow ! couldst thou only see Thy Saviour, as he smileth now on thee, Thy heart would mount like bu'd in spring- tide glee. " Thou wouldst not heed the storms on life's dark way. But fix thy vision on the gleam of day From the eternal throne — nor think to stay " I charge thee, brother, if thy soul hath caught The light of heaven, let not a single thought Rest on these fancied toys that sin hath bought ; " But seek thee ever for the throne-girt spring, Till angel-bands thy triumph notes shall sing, And heaven's high arches with the echoes rins." SAY, I LOVE HIM YET. I PRAY thee, say, I love him yet. Although long years have passed, And I am strangely altered now Since he has seen me last ; The vermeil hue that tinged my cheek Has faded from it now ; Tiie smile has wandered from my lips, And clouded is my brow ! Tell him, I love him yet ! The words He whispered in my ear. So full of pure and godlike love E'en now in dreams I hear. Like angel's voice from yonder world. So musical its tone ; Transported with the sound, I wake, And find I am alone ! Tell him, a woman's early love Is changeless as the sky ; The first true feelings of the heart Are those that last for aye ; And like the star of evening. Far brighter is its ray. As darker grows the thickening gloom. Which shrouds the face of day. I pray thee, say, I love him yet As in the moon-lit hour. When first he knelt him at my feet Within the vine-clad bower ; Then my every thought was his, The crimson blush — the sigh ; Too true I feel they are so still. And will be till I die ! ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.* There sleeps beneath this marble tomb, A little flower, that 'gan to bloom. But withered ere the even ; For came the giant wizard, Death, And stole away its fragrant breath, ^ As bees the sweets of flowers. It was a gentle little thing. Like violets that bloom in Spring, Within some pleasant meadow. It gently smiled a time or two. And oped its eye of liquid blue, But not on earthly sorrow. We wept not o'er its flowery bier : Why should we shed a single tear, That it had flown to heaven ? Its mother lost an evening star : Its gains, indeed, were greater far — It 'scaped to-morrow.
- It died the day it was born.
