The Heart's Spring-Time. THE earth lay shrouded white in snow; Their gaunt arms lifted to the sky. All nature was in chains: the brooks Then from the south the glad spring came, And breathed through all the chilly air, And wheresoe'er her warm feet trod Sprang life and beauty everywhere. The fields and meadows all put on Their spangled dress of grass and flowers, Brooks babbled, and ecstatic birds Made shake with joy their leafy towers. Such is the spring-time of the year! In life's long triumph over death? Is there no spring-time of the heart? Our loved ones, shrouded white, have lain The sad-voiced winds above them go, Their shadowy memories visit us,— For dreams at least can leave that shore,— Mother's gray hairs and gentle eyes, As light she steps across the floor; Or comes the brother of our youth, The same old love-look in her eye; The laughing child, whose sunny hair The hour that tore our lives apart. 'Tis winter in our lives! Snows fall, Chill, dreary skies are overhead, The fresh leaves of our youth are gone, Is there no spring-time of the heart? Nay, listen! In my heart, I hear I catch the fragrance of that clime Where summer blooms the whole round year, The lost ones hidden by the snow, Mother and brother, wife and child,— Only tear-stains and lines of care With deathless youth can find no places. And, best of all, it looks like home, Clothed all in mellow sunlight sweet. The heart's long prayer is answered thus: As babes born into waiting arms, They die into some higher home. And 'neath the sunshine of this hope The Bead One's Message. COULD now the silence of these lips Wake into speech once more to-day With their sweet tones of old-time love, "Weep for me tenderly; for I, Were you here lying in my place, Would press my warm lips on your brow, "For is it not death's sting to know "And, when this body's laid away, I'd have you my low earth-bed make "But then, sweet friends, look up and on! Let sunshine all the clouds break through; And do not, for my sake, forget What for the living you should do "Let not the shadow of my loss Darken the path the living tread; But let the memories of my past Still cheer and help, though I am dead. "These ears can hear your words no more, For my sake then, with words of love, M. J. S. 66 My heart, now still, no longer aches: But weary thousands watch and wake Through dreary nights and hopeless days; Help them before their sad hearts break! "Your willing hands for me have wrought; Give those who suffer at your door. "Cherish my memory in your heart! Still help the sorrowing world to bless; M. J. S. Which is Better? FROM Out of the mystery cometh to earth Out into the mystery there beyond breath Goes a new child of God through the gateway of death. We smile at the birth, at the death toll the bell; How oft is the birth to a life full of tears,- How often, heart-hungry for love unreturned, How often the structures we reared with delight, A live sorrow often is harder, we say, And we sigh for the peace of an undisturbed sleep Our birth is a coming- so wise men have said – From some other land, where they count us as dead. For, if it be true we existed before, To the old home we died, as we came to this shore. Did they mourn our departure there, as we to-day Who knows, then, that what we call death may not be Take one more step onward, as ever we climb Birth and death may be one, then: the different view, And, since life reaches upward and on through all time, Each death may be birth into some fairer clime. Since in birth and death both there are mysteries deep, We know not; and whether 'tis better to stay, Let us trust and be patient; for sure He must know, Birth death!-which is better we now cannot tell. The Loss of a Child. A LESSON OF TRUST. A BUD of life just opening Its petals fresh and fair, Both day and night I watched it, 'Twas never out of sight: Glad tears I gave for dew-drops, And love for sunshine bright. M. J. S. |