94
POEMS.
Then fails the strength that bore her up
When now the goal seems won—
Fadeth the colour from her cheek
As clouds before the sun.
The eye doth lose its sunny gleam,
While closer smiles that shore
Whose shadow she was wont to deem
Would bring her health once more.
When now the goal seems won—
Fadeth the colour from her cheek
As clouds before the sun.
The eye doth lose its sunny gleam,
While closer smiles that shore
Whose shadow she was wont to deem
Would bring her health once more.
Onward! still onward! voices burst
Upon her list'ning ear;
Her glance doth light on kindred forms,
With joyous greeting near:
And then—aye, then—the slender thread
That stays her trembling breath,
Breaks with such rapture, and her head
Bows to the touch of death!
Upon her list'ning ear;
Her glance doth light on kindred forms,
With joyous greeting near:
And then—aye, then—the slender thread
That stays her trembling breath,
Breaks with such rapture, and her head
Bows to the touch of death!
So is it with some earthly thing
For which our spirit yearns,
To which our heart through weary years
With changeless fondness turns.
Perchance our longing eyes may meet
The joy we prize so much,
And see the blessing at our feet
To crumble at the touch!
H. A.
For which our spirit yearns,
To which our heart through weary years
With changeless fondness turns.
Perchance our longing eyes may meet
The joy we prize so much,
And see the blessing at our feet
To crumble at the touch!
H. A.
