They perish; but she endureth,

To faint in the Winter's scorn,

With a life-warmth buried within her Through which other Springs are born.

As the shadows dance hither and thither,
The gleams of thy consciousness pass,
As a lamp wakes its fitful glimmer
In the heart of a sleeping glass.

The shrouded ghost of the future

Stands near,
while I hold thee fast;
And the traits of my race turn slowly
My thoughts to the long-linked past.

O Future! what sorrows gather
In the folds of thy hanging veil?
O Past, shalt thou flower further
In passions comprest and pale?
O thou who art past and future,
Thou Present of life and soul!
We lift our sad eyes to thy features,
Our thoughts to thy great control.

Thy manhood lies crouching within thee,
For the leap of its coming years;

Thy heart takes its long vibration
From the mother's fountain of tears;
The helpful things and the hurtful
Weave round thee their waiting spell:

Oh! look to the God that commands them,
And all shall be suffered well.

THE UNWELCOME MESSAGE.

A DISMAL Postman passes by, –

I fear his sullen knock:

"Twill strike a shiver through the door,

And paralyze the lock.

66

Plague not this unoffending house;

It owes no shameful debt;

Nor guilty chamber doth it hide

Where evil guests are met.

Here gentle heart and gentle blood
Their life-surroundings bless;

And days glide by with happy toil,

And measured thankfulness.

The messengers who enter here

Are glad and bright of eye,

Freighted with precious words that stir

Responsive minstrelsy."

"The note is brief, the seal is sharp,
The characters are pale:

I cannot err in their address;
My letters never fail.

If you the door will not unbar,
The window answers well,

Less lofty than the turret where
I touch the passing bell.

When you have read, the feast may speed,

The business, as you list:

But, somehow, where my foot has stept,

The joy of joys is missed;

And on the heart of working week

A Sabbath falls of rest,

Unwished; yet He who sends me here

Declares his errand blest."