Page images
PDF
EPUB

THE ROBE.

EACH naked branch, the yellow leaf or browng
The rugged rock, and death-deformed plain
Lie white beneath the winter's feathery down,
Nor doth a spot unsightly now remain ;

On sheltering roof, on man himself it falls;

But him no robe, not spotless snow makes clean;
Beneath, his corse-like spirit ever calls,
That on it too may fall the heavenly screen;
But all in vain, its guilt can never hide

From the quick spirit's heart-deep searching eye,
There barren plains, and caverns yawning wide
Ever lie naked to the passer by ;

Nor can one thought deformed the presence shun, But to the spirit's gaze stands bright as in the sun.

LIFE.

It is not life upon Thy gifts to live,

But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;
And when the sun and shower their bounties give,
To send out thick-leaved limbs; a fruitful tree,
Whose green head meets the eye for many a mile,
Whose moss-grown arms their rigid branches rear,
And full-faced fruits their blushing welcome smile
As to its goodly shade our feet draw near ;
Who tastes its gifts shall never hunger more,
For 'tis the Father spreads the pure repast,
Who, while we eat, renews the ready store,
Which at his bounteous board must ever last;
For none the bridegroom's supper shall attend,
Who will not hear and make his word their friend.

THE WAR.

I saw a war, yet none the trumpet blew,
Nor in their hands the steel-wrought weapons bare;
And in that conflict armed there fought but few,
And none that in the world's loud tumults share;
They fought against their wills, the stubborn foe
That mail-clad warriors left unfought within,
And wordy champions left unslain below,

The ravening wolf though drest in fleecy skin; -
They fought for peace,

not that the world can give,

Whose tongue proclaims the war its hands have

ceased

And bids us as each other's neighbor live,

Ere haughty Self within us has deceased;

They fought for him whose kingdom must increase, Good will to men, on earth forever peace.

THE GRAVE YARD.

My heart grows sick before the wide-spread death,
That walks and speaks in seeming life around;
And I would love the corse without a breath,
That sleeps forgotten 'neath the cold, cold ground;
For these do tell the story of decay,

The worm and rotten flesh hide not nor lie;
But this, though dying too from day to day,
With a false show doth cheat the longing eye;
And hide the worm that gnaws the core of life,
With painted cheek and smooth deceitful skin;
Covering a grave with sights of darkness rife,
A secret cavern filled with death and sin;
And men walk o'er these graves and know it not,
For in the body's health the soul's forgot.

THY BROTHER'S BLOOD.

I HAVE no Brother, they who meet me now
Offer a hand with their own wills defiled,
And, while they wear a smooth unwrinkled brow,
Know not that Truth can never be beguiled;
Go wash the hand that still betrays thy guilt;-
Before the spirit's gaze what stain can hide?
Abel's red blood upon the earth is spilt,
And by thy tongue it cannot be denied ;
I hear not with the ear, the heart doth tell
Its secret deeds to me untold before;

Go, all its hidden plunder quickly sell,

Then shalt thou cleanse thee from thy brother's

gore,

Then will I take thy gift ;-that bloody stain.

Shall not be seen upon thy hand again.

« PreviousContinue »