Part 27 (2/2)

I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures, And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be, Must envy the frail reed which no one censures, When overcome 'tis swallowed by the sea.

This life is all resistance and repression, Dear G.o.d, if in that other world unseen, Not rest, we find, but new life and progression, Grant us a respite in the grave between.

A GIRL'S FAITH.

Across the miles that stretch between, Through days of gloom or glad sunlight, There s.h.i.+nes a face I have not seen Which yet doth make my world more bright.

He may be near, he may be far, Or near or far I cannot see, But faithful as the morning star He yet shall rise and come to me.

What though fate leads us separate ways, The world is round, and time is fleet.

A journey of a few brief days, And face to face we two shall meet.

Shall meet beneath G.o.d's arching skies, While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam, And looking in each other's eyes Shall hold the past but as a dream.

But round and perfect and complete, Life like a star shall climb the height, As we two press with willing feet Together toward the Infinite.

And still behind the s.p.a.ce between, As back of dawns the sunbeams play, There s.h.i.+nes the face I have not seen, Whose smile shall wake my world to Day.

TWO.

One leaned on velvet cus.h.i.+ons like a queen-- To see him pa.s.s, the hero of an hour, Whom men called great. She bowed with languid mien, And smiled, and blushed, and knew her beauty's power.

One trailed her tinseled garments through the street, And thrust aside the crowd, and found a place So near, the blooded courser's praning feet Cast sparks of fire upon her painted face.

One took the hot-house blossoms from her breast, And tossed them down, as he went riding by.

And blushed rose-red to see them fondly pressed To bearded lips, while eye spoke unto eye.

One, bold and hardened with her sinful life, Yet shrank and s.h.i.+vered painfully, because His cruel glance cut keener than a knife, The glance of him who made her what she was.

One was observed, and lifted up to fame, Because the hero smiled upon her! while One who was shunned and hated, found her shame In basking in the death-light of his smile.

SLIPPING AWAY.

Slipping away--slipping away!

Out of our brief year slips the May; And Winter lingers, and Summer flies; And Sorrow abideth, and Pleasure dies; And the days are short, and the nights are long; And little is right, and much is wrong.

Slipping away is the Summer time; It has lost its rhythm and lilting rhyme-- For the grace goes out of the day so soon, And the tired head aches in the glare of noon, And the way seems long to the hills that lie Under the calm of the western sky.

Slipping away are the friends whose worth Lent a glow to the sad old earth: One by one they slip from our sight; One by one their graves gleam white; Or we count them lost by the crueler death Of a trust betrayed, or a murdered faith.

Slipping away are the hopes that made Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade.

Slipping away is our hold on life.

And out of the struggle and wearing strife, From joys that diminish, and woes that increase, We are slipping away to the sh.o.r.es of Peace.

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