32
THE BURIAL IN THE WILDERNESS.
Even to the brim.—And every thirsty soul
That like the prostrate desert-flowers, lacked
Enduring vigor to resist the heat
And burden of the day, might come and ask,
And have—and still that stream of love would flow
Unceasingly, and never know decay.
That like the prostrate desert-flowers, lacked
Enduring vigor to resist the heat
And burden of the day, might come and ask,
And have—and still that stream of love would flow
Unceasingly, and never know decay.
And as a fountain lifteth up its voice
In the still midnight hour, she too would send
Her spirit's voice abroad o'er all the earth,
Borne on the wings of ever-watchful prayer,
Until it filled the mighty wilderness,
With the vast greatness of undying faith.
And reached even unto heaven.
What brought her there.
To that dark wilderness?—she on whose brow
The light of many a balmy eve had set
In far-off England;—she o'er whose young life,
And glorious beauty, and exalted mind,
Fond eyes had watched, and kindred bosoms beat
In exultation?
Lovely, in truth, she was,
And full of gentleness—whether beside
The sportive fountain, listening to its voice,
And sending back an echo with her own,
Or twining wild-flowers in her raven hair,
Found in her own green woodlands, for she loved
Those sweet and trusting children of the earth,
And oft would lay them on her heart and bind
In the still midnight hour, she too would send
Her spirit's voice abroad o'er all the earth,
Borne on the wings of ever-watchful prayer,
Until it filled the mighty wilderness,
With the vast greatness of undying faith.
And reached even unto heaven.
What brought her there.
To that dark wilderness?—she on whose brow
The light of many a balmy eve had set
In far-off England;—she o'er whose young life,
And glorious beauty, and exalted mind,
Fond eyes had watched, and kindred bosoms beat
In exultation?
Lovely, in truth, she was,
And full of gentleness—whether beside
The sportive fountain, listening to its voice,
And sending back an echo with her own,
Or twining wild-flowers in her raven hair,
Found in her own green woodlands, for she loved
Those sweet and trusting children of the earth,
And oft would lay them on her heart and bind
