THRENODIA GONE, gone from us! and shall we see Those calm eyes, nevermore? Those deep, dark eyes so warm and bright, The stars of those two gentle eyes Will shine no more on earth; Quenched are the hopes that had their birth, As we watched them slowly rise, Stars of a mother's fate; And she would read them o'er and o'er, Pondering, as she sate, Over their dear astrology, Which she had conned and conned before, Deeming she needs must read aright What was writ so passing bright. And yet, alas! she knew not why, The tongue that scarce had learned to claim An entrance to a mother's heart By that dear talisman, a mother's name, I loved to see the infant soul Fluttering with half-fledged words, That more than words expressed, When his glad mother on him stole And snatched him to her breast! Oh, thoughts were brooding in those eyes, Far, far into the skies, Gladding the earth with song, And gushing harmonies, Had he but tarried with us long! Those small, white hands that ne'er were still before, But ever sported with his mother's hair, Or the plain cross that on her breast she wore! Her heart no more will beat To feel the touch of that soft palm, Sending glad thoughts up to her eyes To bless him with their holy calm, Sweet thoughts! they made her eyes as sweet. How quiet are the hands That wove those pleasant bands! But that they do not rise and sink With his calm breathing, I should think That he were dropped asleep. Alas! too deep, too deep Is this his slumber! Time scarce can number The years ere he shall wake again. Oh, may we see his eyelids open then! As the airy gossamere, He did but float a little way Adown the stream of time, With dreamy eyes watching the ripples play, Or hearkening their fairy chime; His slender sail Ne'er felt the gale; He did but float a little way, And, putting to the shore While yet 't was early day, No grating on his shallop's keel; Mingled the waters with the land Where he was seen no more : Full short his journey was; no dust He seemed a cherub who had lost his way With us was short, and 't was most meet Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet Oh blest word - Evermore! THE SIRENS THE sea is lonely, the sea is dreary, Come to this peaceful home of ours, The low west-wind creeps panting up the shore Full of rest, the green moss lifts, As the dark waves of the sea Draw in and out of rocky rifts, Calling solemnly to thee With voices deep and hollow,"To the shore Follow! Oh, follow! To be at rest forevermore! Look how the gray old Ocean When he hears our restful voices; And all sweet sounds of earth and air That murmurs over the weary sea, And seems to sing from everywhere, "Here mayst thou harbor peacefully, And in our green isle rest forevermore ! And Echo half wakes in the wooded hill, And, to her heart so calm and deep, |