Lays from the West | Page 3

leave this weary present?And have gained the pearly gates.
And as evening shadows, creeping,?Gather round?Dim eyes, worn so weak with weeping,?Learn to smile as peace is found.
In the hope so full of cheering?And delight--?Home, sweet home! our rest we're nearing!?Evening time shall bring us light.
Light of heaven! Earth's gloom adorning?With thy smile,?Earnest of the eternal morning?After this brief "little while."
CHRISTMAS EVE.
Ruddy bright the dying embers?In the glooming, glow and burn,?Scenes of olden-time Decembers,?Ashes now in Times' great urn,?That the heart so well remembers?At this haunted hour reborn:--?All the fairy scenes Elysian?Born again in recollection,?Seen with mirror-like reflection,?Throng upon the wondering vision.?Once again I hear the river?In the darkness rush and roar,?See the pine-boughs wave and quiver,?Hear the oak trees, blasted, hoar,?Muttering, as their gaunt arms shiver,?"Come again, oh! days of yore!"?Come, oh times of hope and longing,?When the beauteous, pure ideal,?Seemed tangible and real--?"Love the light of Truth's belonging."
And the woodland walks, enchanted,?By the moonlight's mystic sheen,?Seen as near as when Hope flaunted?In the distance, dimly seen,?That the witched hour seems haunted?By the joys that once have been.?Dear old days! they seem returning.?Though their radiance long has vanished,?Though their rays stern fate has banished,?Fancy still can see them burning.
See their magic, nameless graces,?Through the shadows flit and gleam,?See again beloved faces?Shine around as in a dream,?And the well-remembered places?Of the bygone, nearer seem,?Till all present melancholy,?Fades away, and sweet and tender,?Visions of life's spring-time splendour,?Gleam among the bay and holly.
Hark! the Christmas bells are ringing?From the grey church-steeple near,?And the choir are sweetly singing,?"Nowel! Hail Messiah here!?Nowel! for He cometh, bringing?Unto all mankind good cheer."?Through the night the music stealing?Bringeth soothing sweet and pleasant,?Sheds a peace upon the present,?Future days in light revealing.
AT ANCHOR.
"Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever"?HEBREWS xiii. 8.
In life's young morning blue-eyed promise smiled?O'er a fair future of enchanting grace,?And sweet toned love the golden hours beguiled,?And Fortune's radiant smile illumed the place.
But change, dread vulture, swooped upon her prey.?And seized my treasures as Time's car sped on,?Then traitor love took wings, and fled away.?And long ere noon I wept a setting sun.
Then Phoenix-like, beside the smoldering pile,?Kind friendship rose with open, outstretched hands,?But, ere I grasped them, death with icy smile?Had rudely snapp'd in twain the three-fold bands.
E'en while I mourned, I heard a thrilling voice?That said in stirring accents, "Up! arise!?Work, that in harvest time thou mayest rejoice!"?And Fame stood pointing to the brightening skies.
Then dreams, false phantoms, filled the gloaming air?And lured me, spell-bound, by a labyrinth maze,?But morning beams awakened new despair--?The meteor glories passed in mist and haze.
Through shady groves I strayed, and on before?Walked high-browed Knowledge, calm-eyed and severe?Unwearied still, I trod his footprints o'er,?But fainting fell, the longed-for prize anear.
Hard-smitten then, I wept; all woe-all gloom!?The heart-void still unfilled, ached keen and sore,?When through the inky darkness shot a gleam?Of new-born glory, unrevealed before.
Dear Lord! How frail these bauble-toys of Time?When Thy "forever" dawns upon the heart;?Thy perfect fullness, Saviour, how divine,?E'en while we taste its blessedness in part!?Still yesterday, to-day, while ages roll?In grand, eternal vastness, still the same,?Oh! potent Healer! every whit made whole,?I sing glad Hallelujah to Thy name!
THE OLD TRYSTING PLACE.
"Die erste Liebe ist die beste."
Through the green boughs the golden sunshine falling?Glints on the glades and lonely woodland bowers;?Bird answers bird, through the wide woodlands calling,?In the deep hush of the calm summer hours.
The limpid river winding through the meadows,?Laughing and sparkling in the sunny noon,?Takes peaceful tones here, 'neath the beeches' shadows,?And sings sweet idylls in low, fitful tune.
Songs of the olden days, of hopes and pleasures,?Songs of the love of youth's glad morning times,?That sigh around our path like dream-world treasures,?Soothing as music of the vesper chimes.
The rustic bridge, the leaves' soft shadows playing?Down in the water-depths, and from away?'Mong the blue hills, come mingled echoes straying,?The pleasant sounds that fill the summer day.
Aburnum's gold, and quivering beech-leaves blending,?Sway, dancing in the breezes, to and fro;?Wild hyacinths, their blue heads lowly bending,?Listen the secrets of the winds to know.
Oh! quaint old trysting-place! oh! lights and shadows,?And sounds that haunt the dreams of Life's glad May!?Dreams withered like the May-flowers in the meadows?Or roses of the Junes long passed away.
Here, oft in dreams, I see my own true maiden,?The pure flower-face, the rippling golden hair;?Ah! many years have roll'd past, sorrow-laden,?Since blue-eyed Edmee waited for me there!
Ah! murmuring brook, with waving willow fringes,?Ah! woodland picture, all your charmed glow?Is touched and changed by Truth's own sober tinges,?Tints that youth's eager eyes see not, nor know.
Fraught with these gleams of old-time faith and feeling,?Fraught with the memory of "what might have been,"?A still, small voice says all is God's wise dealing,?Behind the clouds is brightness yet unseen.
Young love and hope in all their matchless glory,?Smile on our morning-time, then fade away;?Teaching unwilling hearts the