Glenara. H! heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, And her sire and the people are called to her bier. Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud; In silence they reached, over mountain and moor, "And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse! "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud," Oh! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, THEIR ANGELS. "I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, Their Angels. Y heart is lonely as heart can be, And the cry of Rachel goes up from me, Of the little children that are not; Altho' I know They are all in the land where I shall go. I want them close in the dear old way; They are all in the land where I shall go. Only one has died. Here is one small mound And oh, I know She is safe in the land where I shall go. Not dead; only grown and gone away, 139 Over for many and many a year. Yet I know-I know— She's a child in the land where I shall go. My bright brave boy is a grave-eyed man But I think of him now as I had him then, And so, I know I shall have him there where we both shall go. Out from the Father, and into life: Back to His breast from the ended strife, And the finished labor. I hear the word From the lips of Him who was Child and Lord, And I know that so It shall be in the land where we all shall go. Given back-with the gain. The secret this I'm a child myself where I shall go. The world is troublous and hard and cold, That only the children can see Him so! My Neighbor's Confession. (After she had been fortunate.) ES, this is what my neighbor said that night, In the still shadow of her stately house (Fortune came to her when her head was white), What time dark leaves were weird in withering boughs, And each late rose sighed with its latest breath, "This sweet world is too sweet to end in death." But this is what my neighbor said to me: I grieved my youth away for that or this. I had upon my hand the ring you see, With pretty babies in my arms to kiss, And one man said I had the sweetest eyes, He was quite sure, this side of Paradise. But then our crowded cottage was so small, And spacious grounds would blossom full in sight; I did not know that I had everything Till I remembered it. Ah me! ah me! I, who had ears to hear the wild birds sing, And eyes to see the violets. It must be A bitter fate that jewels the gray hair, Which once was golden and had flowers to wear. In the old house, in my old room, for years, Oh, my lost nurslings! I stay on and on, Only to miss you from the empty light Of my lone fire-with my own grave in sight. In the old house, too, in its own old place, Handsome and young, and looking toward the gate, Through which it flushed to meet me, is a face For which, ah me! I nevermore shall wait For which, ah me! I wait forever, I Who, for the hope of it, can surely die. Young men write gracious letters here to me, This glimmers with the far Pacific's shine. Oh, if I only could have back my boys, With their lost gloves and books for me to find, Their scattered playthings and their pleasant noise! I sit here in the splendor, growing blind, With hollow hands that backward reach and ache For the sweet trouble which the children make. |