DOTH NOT A MEETING. 117 That's heard at distance in the grove; But all be beauty, peace, and love. So gently o'er thy brow he'd fly; Bright to the last, in evening's sky! T. MOORE. AND DOTH NOT A MEETING AND doth not a meeting like this make amends part, Still round them like visions of yesterday throng. 118 DOTH NOT A MEETING. As letters some hand hath invisibly traced, When held to the flame will steal out on the sight, So many a feeling, that long seemed effaced, The warmth of a moment like this brings to light. And thus, as in memory's bark we shall glide That once made a garden of all the gay shore, Deceived for a moment, we 'll think them still ours, And breathe the fresh air of life's morning once more. So brief our existence, a glimpse, at the most, And oft even joy is unheeded and lost, For want of some heart that could echo it near. Ah, well may we hope, when this short life is gone, To meet in some world of more permanent bliss, For a smile, or a grasp of the hand, hast'ning on, Is all we enjoy of each other in this. T. MOORE. SAMUEL. 119 THE INFANT SAMUEL. "Then Samuel answered, speak Lord; for thy servant heareth." IN childhood's spring,--ah! blessed spring! The heart unfolds to heaven. When youth shall come,-ah! blessed youth! 'Midst youthful joys or fears, The trusting heart can answer still, 66 When age shall come,-ah! blessed age! When life grows faint and earthly lights Ah blessed age! if then heaven's light Dawn on thy closing eye, And Faith unto the call of God Can answer, -"Here am I." PEABODY. 120 POWER OF MEMORY. POWER OF MEMORY. HER charm around, the enchantress, Memory, threw, A charm that soothes the mind and sweetens too! But is her magic only felt below? Say through what brighter realms she bids it flow! There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar, No more to part, to mingle tears no more! Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its show. ers, As at a dream that charmed her vacant hours. MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME. I HAVE tasted each varied pleasure, I have snatched at each toy that could render And I turn with a sigh to my own dear home- And dazzling with their rays, I weep for the ties that bound me I sigh for one of the sunny hours, For one of my nosegays of fresh wild flowers, I weep when I gaze on the scentless buds And I turn with a sigh to those gay green fields The home where my childhood played. HON. MRS. NORTON. |