THE PRESENCE. I SIT within my room, and joy to find But by thyself Thou keep'st me ever near; Nor can I ask of Thee a menial more 10 THE DEAD. I SEE them, crowd on crowd they walk the earth pear; Their hearts the living God have ceased to know Who gives the spring time to th' expectant year; They mimic life, as if from him to steal His glow of health to paint the livid cheek; They borrow words for thoughts they cannot feel, That with a seeming heart their tongue may speak ; And in their show of life more dead they live Than those that to the earth with many tears they give. I WAS SICK AND IN PRISON. THOU hast not left the rough-barked tree to grow Nor dost Thou on one flower the rain bestow, But soon some answering voice shall reach my ear; And the new song be raised that never dies, THE VIOLET. THOU tellest truths unspoken yet by man THE HEART. THERE is a cup of sweet or bitter drink, think, Or of its dæmon depths the tongue will tell; That cup can ne'er be cleansed from outward stains While from within the tide forever flows; And soon it wearies out the fruitless pains The treacherous hand on such a task bestows; But ever bright its chrystal sides appear, While runs the current from its outlet pure; And pilgrims hail its sparkling waters near, And stoop to drink the healing fountain sure, And bless the cup that cheers their fainting soul While through this parching waste they seek their heavenly goal. |