Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/577

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1850–60.]
LOUISE ESTHER VICKROY.
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And all bright flowers that bloomed about its pathways,
With dew and sunlight garnishing their bloom,
And gentle winds, that sighed, and laughed, and lingered
Amid the incense of its sweet perfume.

And through bright bowers lovely birds went singing.
And built about the nests with sweet home love;
And butterflies sailed by on painted pinions,
Creatures the earth's fair creatures far above.

But oh, my home within this world of rapture!
My home, was it a palace or a cot?
I may not say; I know there was no beauty,
No charm, no luxury that it had not.

The walls were crystal, and the floors seemed marble,
Yet soft as rose-leaves where my foot-steps fell;
Its lattice curtains were bright braided sunbeams;
Its rafters overhead—O, strange to tell!—

Were golden wires, through which, with gentle swaying,
Came ever new and thrilling melodies.
Now lulling to repose, and now impelling
The spirit dreams to rise, and rise, and rise.

Far o'er that world of most supernal beauty.
Into the airy regions still above.
E'en to the glory of the heaven of heavens;
Then nestled softly near, like sighs of love.

A canopy of azure arched it over,
Where silvery stars and one pale crescent gleamed.
Sending the charm of night, without its horror,
To the subduing light that inward streamed.

Then voices soft were whispering gently to me:
"Thy better angels planned this home for thee
When thou didst listen to their holy teachings.
And nobly walk the ways they beckoned thee.

And ever as some new truth thrills thy bosom.
Or when thy hands some gentle deed shall do,
Some fairer flower here for thee will blossom.
Some brighter charm will these be added to.

And when thou walkest Learning's paths unfaltering,
A softer light shall round these walls be flung.
Some niche receive a yet more beauteous statue.
Some fairer painting on the walls be hung."

The whitest angel hands with mine were clasping.
And angel faces smiled sweet smiles on me;
When harsh and sudden came an earthly summons.
That called me thence but for Eternity.

That home is mine where nevermore forever
Can any voice my spirit back recall;
Nor discord follow there, nor shadow darken.
Nor frost nor mildew on its flowers fall.

Nay, tell me not 'twas only Fancy's vision;
I will believe my Father's angels fair
Build such bright mansions for the earth-worn pilgrim;
I will believe such home awaits me there.

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