Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other? Alas for the rarity Oh! it was pitiful! Home, she had none. Sisterly, brotherly, Love by harsh evidence Even God's providence Seeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood with amazement Houseless by night. Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Owning her weakness, Her evil behavior, And leaving, with meekness, FAREWELL LIFE. FAREWELL Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim: Thronging shadows crowd the light, Like the advent of the night; Colder, colder, colder still, I smell the mould above the rose! Welcome Life! The Spirit strives! I smell the rose above the mould! Sarah Flower Adams. HOPE. THE world may change from old to new, From new to old again; + 4 Yet Hope and Heaven for ever true, Hope leads the child to plant the flower, The man to sow the seed; Nor leaves fulfilment to her hour, But prompts again to deed. And ere upon the old man's dust The grass is seen to wave, |