1850-60.] LEWIS JAMES BATES. 639 Yet, where thy waters go, THE MEADOW BROOK. Ah ! how the roses bloom I From the west window, look ! Yon waving line of green Marks where the meadow brook "Windeth its way unseen : — Ah ! how the roses bloom ! Roses and willows ! Till the dark lake of doom Stills thy sweet billows. Windeth its way unseen Under the willows : All the sweet flowers between Drink of its billows. THE HAPPY YEAR. Silent and still it flows, One morn — I do remember well — So little space it hath ; It rained — 'twas on a New- Year's day — But the sweet meadow rose Methought the tears of angels fell Brightens along its path : On all the seasons passed away. Brightens along its path Under the willows, What glimmer of millennial light To the dark lake whose wrath Has lit the roadway trod in gloom ? Stays its bright billows. The world reels blindly through the night, The "Happy Year" may never come. Rill of the humble soul. Though no proud multitude Our days have fallen on evil times ; Mark where thy waters roll, Our highest are our basest men ; By their green line of good — The blood of mediaeval crimes By their green line of good — Drips from our garments now, as then. Roses and willows Bloom o'er thy life's small flood Out of that deep, how little rise : Far down its billows. Out of that darkness what faint spark Has shown, to cheer the longing eyes Rill of the loving heart, Weary of watcliing through the dark ? By thy bright fringe of green Telling us where thou art What star has touched the zenith yet ; Winding thy way unseen — Has passed the dim, meridian Ime, Winding thy way unseen The seal on morning's brow to set. Under life's willows, And quicken error's slow decline ? All the sweet flowers between Drink of thy billows. Weary of questioning the night, I looked into the storm, and lo ! Silent and still thy flow The blackness of the earth was white! (Love needs but little room) ; The falling rain had changed to snow !
