Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/453

1840-50.] EMELINE H. JOHNSON. 437 With love for us unfading still, dwells far away in Heaven. Those eyes are ever in my heart, drawing my soul to him : Their glance of love grows brighter still, as the lamp of life grows dim. Far, far beyond the glowing stars, in the bright world above. We will together watch o'er thee, and guard thee with our love; And though alone, in the dark world, a strong unfailing arm, Will be forever round thee thrown, defend- ing thee from harm. Thy feeble steps will be upheld, that tread earth's lonely wild, " The Father of the fatherless " will guard my only child. THE DAUGHTER'S REQUEST. Fathee, they tell me to-night thou'lt bring A bride to our home of sadness ; And the halls of mourning again will ring With the sounds of mirth and gladness. Father, my heart is sad — and wild — With anguish my brain is reeling ! Nay ! frown not thus on thy motherless child. But bear with this burst of feeling. Thou know'st on my mother's grave, the flowers Of a year, have scarcely started ; Then chide me not, if in this sad hour, I weep for the dear departed. Oh, bear with the gushing tears awhile, For my heart is oppressed with sadness ; And then to-night, I will strive to smile, And wear a look of gladness. Father ! — a boon I ask — 'tis all Thou mayst grant to a heart thus riven ; 'Tis the image that hangs in yonder hall, Of her who is now in Heaven ! That beautiful face so sweetly mild, With its look of gentle meekness ; Hath a power o'er the heart of her erring child. In its wildest moments of weakness. And to-night, when those maddening thoughts arise, Which my spirit of peace is robbing, I will gaze in the depths of those soft dark eyes, Till it stilleth my heart's wild throbbing! They tell me she thou wilt bring to-night, Is fair as a poet's vision ; A creature with form and face as bright. As they who people Elysium. But it swelleth my heart with painful thriU, That the image of another. Ere her kiss is cold on our lips, should fiU The place of my sainted mother. But grant me the boon I ask, and though Each fiber with grief is aching, Thy beautiful bride shall never know That the heart of thy child is breaking ! AFFECTION BEYOND THE GRAVE. The dead! the dead! will they forget to love us. In the far spirit-land beyond the skies? Do they not keep an angel guard above us. Watching us ever with their starry eyes? And is not love inseparate from the spirit. Our being's light, our Ufe's vitality; And will it not too with the soul inherit The blessed gift of unmortality ? In yonder room, from which the daylight dying, Leaveth a glory with its parting breath;