1830-40.] LAURA M. THURSTON. 251 ! brightly, brightly glow thy skies, In summer's sunny hours ! The green earth seems a paradise Arrayed in summer flowers ! But oh ! there is a land afar Whose skies to me are brighter far, Along the Atlantic shore ! For eyes beneath their radiant shrine. In kindlier glances answered mine — Can these their light restore ? Upon the lofty bound I stand, That parts the East and West ; Before me — lies a fairy land ; Behind — a home of rest ! Hei'e, hope her wild enchantment flings, Portrays all bright and lovely things. My footsteps to allure — But there, in memory's light, I see All that was once most dear to me — My young heart's cynosure ! THE PATHS OF LIFE.* Go forth — the world is very wide, And many paths before ye lie. Devious, and dangerous, and untried; Go forth with wary eye ! Go ! with the heart by grief unbow'd ! Go ! ere a shadow or a cloud Hath dimm'd the laughing sky ! But, lest your wand'ring footsteps stray, Choose ye the straight, the narrow way. Go forth — the world is very fair, Through the dim distance as ye gaze. And mark, in long perspective, there. The scenes of coming days. Orbs of bright radiance gem the sky. And fields of glorious beauty lie
- An address to a class of girls, about leaving school,
Indiana. Beneath their orient rays ; Yet, ere their altered light grow dim. Seek ye the Star of Bethlehem! Go forth — within your distant homes There are fond hearts that mourn your stay; There are sweet voices bid ye come ; Go — ye must hence — away ! No more within the woodland bowers Your hands may wreathe the summer flow- ers, No more your footsteps stray ; To hail the hearth, and grove and glen. Oh, when will ye return again ? Not when the summer leaves shall fade, As now they fade from shrub and tree. When autumn winds, through grove and glade, Make mournful melody ; The long, bright, silent autumn days. The sunset, with its glorious blaze. These shall return — but ye Though time may all beside restore. Ye may come back to us no more. Go — ye have dreamed a fairy dream. Of cloudless skies and fadeless flowers. Of days, whose sunny lapse shall seem A fete 'mid festal bowers ! But of the change, the fear, the strife. The gathering clouds, the storms of life, The blight of autumn showers. Ye have no vision — these must be Unvailed by stern reality ! Ye yet must wake (for time and care Have ever wandered side by side). To find earth false, as well as fair. And weary too, as wide. Ye yet must wake, to find the glow Hath faded from the things below. The glory and the pride ! To bind the willow on the brow. Wreathed with the laurel garland now.
