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THE OLD HOUSE.

I've searched through fields and gardens rare,
Nor found your likeness anywhere.

My little hearts, that beat so high
With love to God, and trust in men,
O, come to me, and say if I

But dream, or was I dreaming then,
What time we sat within the glow
Of the old house hearth, long ago?

My little hearts, so fond, so true,

I searched the world all far and wide,
And never found the like of you:

God grant we meet the other side
The darkness 'twixt us now that stands,
In that new house not made with hands !

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FOR THE LOST.

LOST LILIES.

SHOW you her picture? Here it lies! Hands of lilies, and lily-like brow; Mouth that is bright as a rose, and eyes That are just the soul's sweetest overflow.

Darling shoulders, softly pale,

Borne by the undulating play

Of the life below, up out of their veil, Like lilies out o' the waves o' the May.

Throat as white as the throat of a swan,
And all as proudly graceful held;
Fair, bare bosom "clothed upon

With chastity," like the lady of eld.

Tender lids, that drooping down,
Chide your glances over bold;

Fair, with a golden gleam in the brown,
And brown again in the gleamy gold.

These on your eyes like a splendor fall,
And you marvel not at my love, I see;
But it was not one, and it was not all,

That made her the angel she was to me.

LOST LILIES.

So snut the picture and put it away,
Your fancy is only thus misled;

What can the dull, cold semblance say,
When the spirit and life of the life is fled?

Seven long years, and seven again,

And three to the seven

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The weary fingers of the rain

a weary space

Have drawn the daisies over her face.

Seven and seven years, and three,

The leaves have faded to death in the frost,

Since the shadow that made for me

The world a shadow my pathway crossed.

And now and then some meteor gleam
Has broken the gloom of my life apart,
Or the only thread of some raveled dream
Has slid like sunshine in my heart.

But never a planet, steady and still,
And never a rainbow, brave and fine,

And never the flowery head of a hill
Has made the cloud of my life to shine.

Yet God is love! and this I trust,

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Though summer is over and sweetness done, That all my lilies are safe, in the dust,

As they were in the glow of the great, glad sun

Yea, God is love, and love is might!
Mighty as surely to keep as to make;

And the sleepers, sleeping in death's dark night,
In the resurrection of life shall wake.

A WONDER.

STILL alway groweth in me the great wonder, When all the fields are blushing like the dawn, And only one poor little flower ploughed under, That I can see no flowers, that one being gone : No flower of all, because of one being gone.

Aye, ever in me groweth the great wonder,

When all the hills are shining, white and red,
And only one poor little flower ploughed under,
That it were all as one if all were dead:
Aye, all as one if all the flowers were dead.

I cannot feel the beauty of the roses;

Their soft leaves seem to me but layers of dust; Out of my opening hand each blessing closes : Nothing is left me but my hope and trust, Nothing but heavenly hope and heavenly trust.

I get no sweetness of the sweetest places;

My house, my friends no longer comfort me ;
Strange somehow grow the old familiar faces;
For I can nothing have, not having thee:
All my possessions I possessed through thee.

Having, I have them not― strange contradiction! Heaven needs must cast its shadow on our earth; Yea, drown us in the waters of affliction

Breast high, to make us know our treasure's worth, To make us know how much our love is worth.

MOST BELOVED.

And while I mourn, the anguish of my story

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Breaks, as the wave breaks on the hindering bar: Thou art but hidden in the deeps of glory, Even as the sunshine hides the lessening star, And with true love I love thee from afar.

I know our Father must be good, not evil,
And murmur not, for faith's sake, at my ill ;
Nor at the mystery of the working cavil,

That somehow bindeth all things in his will,
And, though He slay me, makes me trust Him still.

MOST BELOVED.

My heart thou makest void, and full;
Thou giv'st, thou tak'st away my care;

O most beloved! most beautiful!

I miss, and find thee everywhere!

In the sweet water, as it flows;

The winds, that kiss me as they pass ;
The starry shadow of the rose,

Sitting beside her on the grass;

The daffodilly, trying to bless

With better light the beauteous air;
The lily, wearing the white dress
Of sanctuary, to be more fair;

The lithe-armed, dainty-fingered brier,
That in the woods, so dim and drear,

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