Part 8 (1/2)

Of the countless throng around me Each hath labors like to thine, Each, methinks, some Mona Lisa In his spirit's inmost shrine.

Visions haunt us from our childhood Of a love so pure, so true, Time and tears, and care and anguish, Leave it steadfast, fair and new;--

Visions that elude for ever, As the silent years depart, Some unhappy ones and weary,-- Mona Lisas of the heart.

Gleams of that divine completeness G.o.d's angelic ones attain, Pa.s.s amid our toils before us, And we emulate in vain.

Poet fancies crowd the spirit, We would print upon the scroll-- But that perfect utterance faileth-- Mona Lisas of the soul.

SPRING LILIES.

'Neath their green and cool cathedrals, In the garden lilies bloom, Casting to the fresh Spring Zephyrs Peal on peal of sweet perfume.

Often have I, pausing near them When the sunset flushed the sky, Seen the coral bells vibrating With their fragrant harmony.

And, within my quiet dwelling, I have now a Lily fair, Whose young spirit's sweet Spring budding Watch I with unfailing care: G.o.d, in placing her beside me, Made my being most complete, And my heart keeps time for ever With the music of her feet.

I remember not, while gazing In her earnest eyes of blue, That the earth has aught of sorrow Aught less innocent and true; And the restlessness and longing Wakened by the cares of day, With the burden and the tumult, In her presence fall away.

s.h.i.+eld my Lily, Holy Father!

s.h.i.+eld her from the whirlwind's might, But protracted suns.h.i.+ne temper With a soft and starry night; 'Neath the burning suns of Summer, Withered, scorched, the spring-flower lies, Human hearts contract, when strangers Long to clouds and tearful eyes.

Give her purpose strong and holy, Faith and self-devotion high; These Life's common by-ways brighten Every hope intensify.

Teach her all the brave endurance That the sons of earth require; May she, with a patient labor, To the great and good aspire.

Should some mighty grief oppress her, Heavier than she can bear, Oh! sustain her by Thy presence, Hear and answer Thou her prayer: And whene'er the storms of winter Round my precious Lily reign, To a fairer clime transplant her, There to live and bloom again.

LINES TO D. G. T., OF SHERWOOD.

Blessings on thee, n.o.ble boy!

With thy sunny eyes of blue, Speaking in their cloudless depths Of a spirit pure and true.

In thy thoughtful look and calm, In thy forehead broad and high, We have seemed to meet again One whose home is in the sky.

Thou to Earth art still a stranger, To Life's tumult and unrest; Angel visitants alone Stir the fountains in thy breast.

Thou hast yet no Past to shadow With a fear the Future's light, And the Present spreads before thee Boundless as the Infinite.

But each pa.s.sing hour must waken Energies that slumber now, Manhood with its fire and action Stamp that fair, unfurrowed brow.

Into Life's sublime arena, Opening through the world's broad mart, Bear thy Mother's gentle spirit, And her kind and loving heart.