Volume Ii Part 44 (1/2)

Ethel M. Hewitt [18--

”BECAUSE OF YOU”

Sweet have I known the blossoms of the morning Tenderly tinted to their hearts of dew: But now my flowers have found a fuller fragrance, Because of you.

Long have I wors.h.i.+ped in my soul's enshrining High visions of the n.o.ble and the true-- Now all my aims and all my prayers are purer, Because of you.

Wise have I seen the uses of life's labor; To all its puzzles found some answering clue.

But now my life has learned a n.o.bler meaning, Because of you.

In the past days I chafed at pain and waiting, Grasping at gladness as the children do; Now it is sweet to wait and joy to suffer, Because of you.

In the long years of silences that part us Dimmed by my tears and darkened to my view, Close shall I hold my memories and my madness, Because of you.

Whether our lips shall touch or hands shall hunger, Whether our love be fed or joys be few, Life will be sweeter and more worth the living, Because of you.

Sophia Almon Hensley [1866-

THEN

I give thee treasures hour by hour, That old-time princes asked in vain, And pined for in their useless power, Or died of pa.s.sion's eager pain.

I give thee love as G.o.d gives light, Aside from merit, or from prayer, Rejoicing in its own delight, And freer than the lavish air.

I give thee prayers, like jewels strung On golden threads of hope and fear; And tenderer thoughts than ever hung In a sad angel's pitying tear.

As earth pours freely to the sea Her thousand streams of wealth untold, So flows my silent life to thee, Glad that its very sands are gold.

What care I for thy carelessness?

I give from depths that overflow, Regardless that their power to bless Thy spirit cannot sound or know.

Far lingering on a distant dawn, My triumph s.h.i.+nes, more sweet than late; When, from these mortal mists withdrawn, Thy heart shall know me--I can wait.

Rose Terry Cooke [1827-1892]

THE MISSIVE

I that tremble at your feet Am a rose; Nothing dewier or more sweet Buds or blows; He that plucked me, he that threw me Breathed in fire his whole soul through me.

How the cold air is infused With the scent!

See, this satin leaf is bruised-- Bruised and bent, Lift me, lift the wounded blossom, Soothe it at your rosier bosom!