And earth's of reverend honor. So I dreamed;
And all my future projects, plans, and hopes
Twined with his presence.
Tell me, you that can, The colored language that shall paint his soul. Give me the words, that I may draw him true, And lovely as he was to those he loved. Gentleness sat upon his even brow,
And from his eye beamed meek benignity;
While its peculiar, almost tearful gaze,
Went to the soul of all it fell upon.
If we might think some spirit, purified
From evil stains, robed once again in flesh,
And sent on messages of love to men,
Such we might deem my friend; so pure; so calm;
So unregardful of the petty cares
And small impertinences that annoy
All other men; so thoughtless of himself;
So bent on others' good; so seemingly
Unconscious of the tempting things of earth,
And musing ever on some purer scenes.
How quietly, yet forcibly, he stood!
Humble, yet bold; not eloquent, indeed,
But something better; winning, clear, and sweet;
Where his fond flock looked up to hear and learn.
No thunder from his voice, and from his eye
No lightning; but the gentle breath of spring
Recalling flowers to life, the summer shower
Softly refreshing the luxuriant herb,
The placid sun, whose penetrating beams,
Steadfast and gradual, lead the season on,
The quiet dew, that nourishes unseen,
These are the holy images that tell
The style and efficacy of his work;
While from the sacred rostrum he came down
To cheer the humble, and reclaim the bad,
And as a friend, from house to house to spread
Improvement, consolation, joy, reproof,
And turn his parish walks to walks of heaven.
What was my joy to sit beneath his voice,
To witness the intense, devoted love
Which bound his people to him, hear their words,
And see their tears of gratitude and praise,
And watch the growth of goodness from his toil!
O Heaven! that I should see it all, and live
To see its end, its mournful end so soon!
A few short months in manhood's early prime,
He labored, faltered; and my broken heart
Felt that yon grave had buried in its womb
The strongest tie that bound me to the world.
So pass the friendships of this earth away;
So shades and sorrows fall upon the path
That beamed the brightest. But the shades of grief
Rest not forever on the darkened soul;
Time gently scatters them; and deathless hope
Throws back the curtain of the fearful tomb,
And shows its tenants robed in radiant day.
The heart no more is troubled; anchored fast
On this strong hope, it sits in peace,
Serenely waiting — wisdom harshly learned,
Perchance, but needful, known in words to all,
But husbanded and real to the few,
Who, willingly submissive, at the feet
Of stern affliction sit. And blessed are they
Who bear that sweet serenity of mind
Taught by the consciousness that every good
Of earth is fleeting, save the one high worth,
Which, being kindred to the worth of heaven,
Partakes its immortality, and glows
Brighter and better when all else decays.
These ne'er shall know with hopeless pang to mourn
A true friend's loss. Hope triumphs; dust and death
Sever them not; for earth, to them, and heaven
Are one; and in communion of the soul,
In all that truly makes th' immortal mind,
In thoughts, affections, wishes, they are joined
Inseparably; till hoary Time, at length,
The great restorer, lifts his awful veil,
And ushers them to glory, face to face.
A SISTER'S love! I dwell upon the themeThe only love on earth to which the earth Has given no taint of self-regardful care. In even the mother's breast, a selfish fear Throbs with the pulse of pure maternal joy, And her own image mingles with the scene Which Hope makes radiant with her boy's renown. But in a sister's breast affection lives,
All pure, unselfish, looking but to him.
Angel for angel glows with such regard,
Thus whole, deep, self-forgetting. Bowers of heaven
Witness it in the cherubs' changeless loves;
Earth sees it in a sister's heart alone.
Devoted, passionless, unwearied strong
To bear, exhaustless in its sympathy-
True in all change-unchilled by coldness. Scorn, Neglect, and rudeness such as man's poor pride Sometimes returns for all the gentle cares
And sacrifice of sisterly regard,
She watches through an unrewarded life,
And smooths the pillow of ungrateful death.
But when the brother knows and owns her worth,
Tell me, what fellowship on earth like theirs?
See what a radiance glows upon their path!
Such as thy hand has drawn, illustrious bard,
In Jane de Montfort-image unapproached
Of noble tenderness - or such as stood
In tears and woe at Korner's early tomb;
Or sat, through days of waywardness and love,
By Elia's side, to cheer a languid hope,
And soothe th' unequal pilgrimage of pain.
And always thus - beneath a thousand roofs,
It toils, waits, watches, and imparts a hue
Of holiest heaven to low humanity.
GRACEFUL and vigorous to the last, thine arms Still stretching forth their broad, protecting shade, With wooing invitation, and thy leaves
Smiling and whispering peace, so dost thou wait With patient gentleness the slow decay
That bears thee to the dust. I bless thee, friend, Companion, teacher. Many are the joys
And much the wisdom I have drawn from thee
At noon and evetide musing in thy shade,
In childhood's sport and manhood's thoughtfulness;
And now, upon thy venerable form,
Which years have shattered, my enfeebled eyes,
Which years have dimmed, I rest,
Lessons of strength and peace to cheer life's slow decline.
There the bright oriole built his airy home,
Pendent from slender bough, beyond the hope
Of truant boy. In safety there his brood,
Rocked by the varying winds, enjoyed repose.
Gay, brilliant creature; hidden 'mid the leaves,
Silent, or shouting forth his rich, free note;
And now from bough to bough flitting along,
Just seen by glimpses, like a bright-red flash
Stealthily gleaming from the ragged clouds:-
Or redbreast, at the twilight close of day,
Pouring out happiness in cheerful tones
Of clear, strong melody.
Or watch the swallows while on busy wing,
Now mounting high in frolic play, and now
Skimming with level sweep the grassy plain,
Or pool's smooth surface; chattering now
In congregated crowds upon the roof,
Or darting in and out the ancient barn,
With notes of glee and motions of delight,
That made me long to join their gladsome sport,
On buoyant wings like theirs; and now retired
Apart from crowd and song, and gliding soft
On silent pinions poised, as if to muse
In meditative wisdom, and restore
The sober balance of a thoughtful mind.
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