Fading and false is the aspect it wears, As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears; While the withering thoughts which the world. cannot know, Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below; And the vessel drives on to that desolate shore Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er. Hervey. THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. They grew in beauty, side by side, The same fond mother bent at night She had each folded flower in sight- One, 'midst the forest of the west, The Indian knows his place of rest, The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one- One sleeps where southern vines are drest, He wrapt his colours round his breast And one-o'er her the myrtle showers And parted thus they rest, who played They that with smiles lit up the hall, Mrs. Hemans. THE ANGEL'S GREETING. "Hark! they whisper! Angels say, Come to the land of peace! POPE. Come where the tempest hath no longer sway, The shadow passes from the soul away- The sounds of weeping cease. Fear hath no dwelling there! Come to the mingling of repose and love, Come to the bright, and blest, And crowned for ever! 'midst that shining band, Gathered to Heaven's own wreath from every land, Thy spirit shall find rest! Thou hast been long alone; Come to thy mother! on the Sabbath shore, The heart that rocked thy childhood, back once more Shall take its wearied one. In silence wert thou left; Come to thy sisters! joyously again All the home-voices, blent in one sweet strain, Shall greet their long bereft. Over thine orphan head The storm hath swept, as o'er a willow's bough ; In thy divine abode, Change finds no pathway, memory no dark trace, And-oh! bright victory—death by love no place : Come, spirit, to thy God! Mrs. Hemans. HE WALKED WITH GOD. Genesis v. 24. He walked with God, in holy joy, Or sought the flowers by stream and fount, The graver noon of manhood came, One voice was in his heart-the same A shepherd king on eastern plains- And calmly, brightly, that pure life No cloud it knew, no parting strife, He bowed him not, like all beside, But joined at once the glorified, So let us walk !—the night must come We through the darkness must go home, Mrs. Hemans. |