Part 3 (1/2)
See! I tear away the flowers From my perfumed golden hair, Closely tended in past hours With such jealous, sinful care; Never more for me they blossom, Not for me those jewels vain: On my arms or brow or bosom, They shall never s.h.i.+ne again.
Dost thou wonder at my daring Thus to seek thy sacred shrine, When the sinner's lot despairing, Wretched--hopeless--should be mine?
To the instincts high of woman Most unfaithful and untrue; Yet Madonna, hope inspires me, For thou wast a woman too.
Evil promptings, dark-despairing, Whisper: ”Leave this sacred spot; Back to sinful joys, repairing, In them live and struggle not!”
But a bright hope tells that heaven May by me e'en yet be won, That I yet may be forgiven, Mary, by thy spotless Son!
Yes! I look on thy mild features, Full of dove-like, tender love-- Once the humblest of G.o.d's creatures, Now with Him enthroned above!
Every trait angelic breathing Sweetest promises of peace; And the smile thy soft lips wreathing Tell me that my griefs shall cease.
Soft the evening shadows gather But no longer shall I wait, I will rise and seek the Father, For it is not yet too late; And when earthly cares oppress me, When life's paths my bruised feet pain; Hither shall I come to rest me, And new strength and courage gain!
THE VESPER HOUR.
Soft and holy Vesper Hour-- Precursor of the night-- How I love thy soothing power, The hush, the fading light; Raising those vain thoughts of ours To higher, holier things-- Mingling gleams from Eden's bowers With earth's imaginings!
How thrilling in some grand old fane To hear the Vesper prayer Rise, with the organ's solemn strain, On incense-laden air; While the last dying smiles of day Athwart the stained gla.s.s pour-- Flooding with red and golden ray The shrine and chancel floor.
Who, at such moment, has not felt Those yearnings, vague, yet sweet, For Heaven's joys at last to melt, Into fruition meet; And wished, as with rapt soul he viewed That glorious Home above, That earth's vain thoughts would ne'er intrude On visions of G.o.d's love?
To this calm hour belongs a sway The bright day cannot wield-- Sweet as the evening star's first ray, Transforming wood and field; Soft'ing gay flowers else too bright And silvering hill and dell; And clothing earth in that mild light The sad heart loves so well.
THE PARTING SOUL AND HER GUARDIAN ANGEL.
(_Written during sickness_).
_Soul_-- Oh! say must I leave this world of light With its sparkling streams and suns.h.i.+ne bright, Its budding flowers, its glorious sky?
Vain 'tis to ask me--I cannot die!
_Angel_-- But, sister, list! in the realms above, That happy home of eternal love, Are flowers more fair, and skies more clear Than those thou dost cling to so fondly here.
_Soul_-- Ah! yes, but to reach that home of light I must pa.s.s through the fearful vale of night; And my soul with alarm doth shuddering cry-- O angel, I tell thee, I dare not die!
_Angel_-- Ah! mortal beloved, in that path untried Will I be, as ever, still at thy side, Through gloom to guide till, death's shadows pa.s.sed, Thou nearest, unharmed, G.o.d's throne at last.
_Soul_-- Alas! too many close ties of love Around my wavering heart are wove!
Fond, tender voices, press me to stay-- Think'st thou from them I would pa.s.s away?
Daily my mother, with anguish wild, Bends o'er the couch of her dying child, And one, nearer still, with silent tears, Betrays his anguish, his gloomy fears-- Yes, even now, while to thee I speak, Are hot drops falling upon my cheek; Think you I'd break from so close a tie?
No, my guardian angel, I cannot die!
_Angel_-- Poor child of earth! how closely clings Thy heart to earth and to earthly things!