Lays from the West Part 14

TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT.

We left our ink-stained office-desk, Two, young in years, yet old in care; We laid aside our world-face mask, We laid aside our daily task To breathe the country air.

We laid aside our musty books, Grown almost hateful to our eyes; We longed to roam the country nooks, We longed to hear the murmuring brooks, And see the sunny skies.

We longed to hear the birds again, Minstrels that through the woodlands stray; We longed to hear the reaper's strain Sung in the fields of golden grain On the bright harvest day.

Oh! pleasant were the breezy downs!

Oh! fair the lanes and fields; Far from the weary noise of towns, We half-forgot grim Care's dark frowns, 'Mong peace such quiet yields.

He said, The busy city's street The path of labour and of woe, The anxious faces, hurrying feet, The things that every day I meet, Are what I hate to know!

Oh! might I bathe in Lethe's stream, Forget the happy days gone by, And know this life a fleeting dream, And look on every pa.s.sing scene As with a stranger's eye.

To walk along this quiet lane, To feel this evening calm, Ah! how it soothes my tired brain With peace I thought that ne'er again Would bless me with its balm.

'Twas in a lane like this, at even My life's peace came to me; A great, sweet joy to me was given, A pure, true love, whose hope has riven Earth's gloom and mystery.

A maiden, lovely as the glow Of Fancy's soul-land light, Once vowed to me for weal and woe, As calm or storm would come or go, Her love was 'mine by right!'

Twas Spring-time then, ere Autumn's blast Sighed with its dreary moan, To shake the brown leaves falling fast, Her sweet life-tale was told and past, And I was left alone!

'Twas hard to think that _she_ was dead, 'Twas hard to bear such pain; 'Twas hard to feel all brightness fled, 'Twas hard to count bright days swift sped That could not come again!

I sought her grave at eve, alone, And there before me lay Her tomb, a lily carved on stone, Meet emblem of my darling one So early called away.

And, 'neath the lily, words so sweet, In dreams they haunt my rest; Oft at their sound I turn to weep 'He giveth His beloved sleep.'

Oh! portion purest, best!

Sleep to the weary body, worn, On earth, with pain and care, To meet the ransomed soul, new-born, On the Great Resurrection Morn, In G.o.d-like beauty fair.

There, at her grave, I bade farewell To all my heart loved best; I left our home, I could not dwell "Mong scenes our love had marked so well, I felt Grief's wild unrest."

This is my story told to you-- My holiest dream of life; The blest home-love that once I knew When she, so good, so fair, so true, I called my own--my wife!

My suns.h.i.+ne faded when she died, Such joy I might not know; G.o.d called her early from my side, And when I lost my gentle bride The world seemed full of woe!

He knew 'twas best--my stubborn heart Had need of chastening pain; To bow beneath the rod's keen smart, To learn, by grief, the better part, To feel such loss is gain.

And now no earthly idol smiles, No pleasant pa.s.sions lure; No fleeting phantom now beguiles My soul from heaven with tempting wiles, My hope is fixed and sure.

She waits for me--the swift year's flight I count like miser's gold; I keep the "watches of the night,"

I wait until the morning light Its glories snail unfold.

SUNSET.

A burning flood of glory blazing far along the West, And clouds on clouds aglowing towering o'er the mountains'

crest Till the s.h.i.+ning, burnished columns and the ranks of crimson vie In a living trail of splendour, lighting all the evening sky.

The grand October sunset burns above the mountains' brow, Whose grey old heads s.h.i.+ne redly, light-kissed and ruddy now; There the suns.h.i.+ne loves to linger in a parting glow of light, Ere Day his throne resigneth to the dusky reign of Night.

But low and lower sinking, the sun goes down the West And the dazzling beams are fading along the Ocean's breast Till, pale and paler growing, the grandeur dies away, And the wild waves and the breezes seem wailing for the Day!

For the fair Day, that has vanished--the brightness that is fled, And for all the sunny hours that are pa.s.sed away and dead, The rosy flush of sunrise, the gladsome time of morn, And bird-songs sweet, that far and near told when the Day was born!

The tranquil hush of noontide, the mellow evening hours But ah! the Day's departure left desolate the bowers, And woodland haunts, and flowery dells, and mountain streams and glades Are lonely left in deepening gloom, and mystic twilight shades!

But through the Night's grim darkness the star-lamps bright shall burn, 'Till the lone Earth, cheered and hopeful, shall wait for Day's return, And gaze with wistful longing, till the dawn the far East hills, And the sun in regal beauty smile o'er the grand old hills.

Then life and light and brightness shall be her own again, And in the new-found gladness she'll forget the night of pain Forget the hours of darkness when deep in gloom she lay, And her weeping-time of sadness be "as waters that pa.s.s away!"

Thus, this dreary night of sorrow through which we wander here Be only transient darkness the long bright Day is near, Whose light of peace and glory the ransomed spirit fills, As it hails the dawn eternal upon the Heavenly Hills!

"CONSIDER THE LILIES."

Not gold nor diamond flash of dazzling brightness, No costly thing of earth Thou givest for thought; But these sweet simple flowers, beside whose whiteness The great king's glory all would seem as nought.

Thou knewest how soon must fade all earth's poor splendour, Worthless its wealth to Thine all-seeing eye; The short-lived glimmer of its pomp and grandeur Fleeting and transient only born to die.

Thou would'st not point our love to earth's frail treasure, But to these lilies, beautiful and pure; They toil nor spin not, yet their life's full measure Thou metest, and their day is kept secure.

Oh, lilies! well I love your snowy pureness!

That once the Master deigned while here to trace, Pledges of His dear love, whose truth and serene Are faintly shadowed in your beauty's grace.

Meek teachers! could I learn that lesson given!

If G.o.d so clothe the gra.s.s with beauty rare, Shall He not guide us on our way to heaven, And guard our pathway till we enter there?

Oh give me, Lord, a soul of lily whiteness, Washed in the blood that Thou hast shed for me, Thy Spirit's light to pierce earth's gloom with brightness And show the way thro' mist and cloud to Thee

Give me a heart whose treasure is in heaven, Not for to-morrow feeling anxious thought; Even as my day, so shall my strength be given, And grace sufficient--can I want for aught?

Oh, give me faith, that on Thy love relying, From doubt's dark thrall I may be ever free; And clothe me, Lord, that in the hour of dying, Thy righteousness, blest robe, may cover me!

Thus may I walk, by Thee, my Guide, befriended, 'Joyous with joy that knows no sad decay; That when earth's sun has set her brief day ended My morn may break and s.h.i.+ne to "perfect day'"