1850-CO.] MARY E. NEALY 481 For now it seems like one Chained down, a captive, in a foreign land, Where none its language e'er can under- stand, — " Unknowing and unknown ! " Ah, why is there a deep Within this soul which they can never sound — A struggling fountain bound beneath the ground, Whose waters cannot sleep ! My soul has ever striven To reach an elevation where its breath Might not be stifled by the mould be- neath — Where it could dream of heaven. But when it upward springs. Forced by its very godliness to soar, Some dark, invisible chain forevermore Draws down its yearning wings. O, will this ever be ? Is life naught but the struggling of the soul To break the bars which all its powers con- trol, And gain its liberty? It cannot, cannot be ! For Thou, God ! art good and wise and just, I will believe — in Thee I will have trust That we may yet be free — That every yearning soul Shall find its own Utopia, which is heaven — That all which now is void will then be given Full, free, without control — That not one chain shall bind Th' enfranchised spirit — that its brightest dreams Will change to life in heaven's refulgent beams — The life it longs to find. O let me always think That this will be ! Were it a thousand years, I could bear all life's longings, all its fears, At such a fount to drink, — To quench the burning thirst That oft has imaged within this heart of mine. For weary years, and met no answering sign, Till it has almost burst ! Father, I do believe This will be so. And in this faith I'll live, And strive, and bear, and suffer, and forgive, And long no more, nor grieve. "DO I LOVE HIM?" Do I love him ? Why should brightness Like a tide of glory beam O'er what once was dull and irksome — Darkened glen and shaded stream ! Why like some gay lark up-springing, Does my spirit greet the sun ? While my heart keeps'singing, singing, Till the Eden day is done — Is this because I love him? Do I love him ? One soft evening, When the moon among the flowers Shed her wealth of light and shadow — Ebon clouds and silver showers ! — We were walking — both were silent — When a pure white rose he brake, Kissed it once, then gave it to me, Ti-embled I, but never spake — Was this because I loved him ?
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