The forest minstrel :: :: University of Virginia Library

My head was weary, and my heart was faint
With toil, and care, and sorrow, and I lay
In dreamy musing, while the holy moon
Poured o'er my pillow her celestial day.

A gentle murmur, as of waving wings,
Which shed a soothing balm upon the air,
Now filled my chamber. 'Tis the angel Sleep,
I said; she comes in answer to my prayer;

And I will see her beauty, and will gaze
Into the poppies on her brow and breast,
And watch the dreamy spirits braid the spells
That shed enchantment o'er the hour of rest.

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I looked;—there stood an angel by my bed,
But 'twas not Sleep with heavy-lidded eyes,
With slumbrous wreaths, and sceptre of such down
As o'er the bosom of the cygnet lies.

But looking down upon me, with such eyes
As make the spirit conscious of their power
To search the springs that move its deepest chord,
And read the heart-leaf of its inmost flower;

With neither badge or emblem, there she stood,
The holy moonlight resting on her brow,
And draping her fair form;—with trembling voice,
I murmured, “Heavenly creature! who art thou?”

Then came a voice, still as an infant's sleep,
Yet thrilling as the trumpet's tone of fear;
My soul grew faint, and trembled as she spake,—
“I am the Spirit of the passing year.

“Lo! I have walked beside thee many days,
With ministry of mercy; now I go
To Him who sent me, for the New Year comes,
I hear his footsteps in the drifting snow.

“Search now amid my precious gifts to thee,
Some gem that hath received no earthly stain,
Which I may bear with me to Heaven, a pledge
That I have not been sent to thee in vain.

“And it shall be an evidence for thee,
When thou shalt stand before the judgment seat,
Where years misspent, and gifts unsanctified,
In dark array thy naked soul shall meet.”

224

“What shall I give?” I asked. And she replied,
“Bring me the days that have been well employed,
The blessings worthily and purely used,
The hallowed griefs, bliss blamelessly enjoyed.”

I searched the days, but not a single gem
Of all the chain was perfect in its light,
My heart was fainting as I marked the stains,
On things that came from heaven, so pure and bright.

And then I scanned the deeds that I had done,
For one so pure that it might speak to God;
I might as well have sought the morning star
Amongst the fragile blossoms of the sod.

I turned me to the precious things of life,
And sought one leaf that was not touched of earth,
But Truth, and Hope, and Faith, and Charity,
Ah me! and yet they were of heavenly birth.

But Love and Friendship—I have kept them pure
In my heart's holiest chamber. Look! I cried,
How perfect, how divinely beautiful,
How long enduring and how sorely tried!

Yes, they shall be my pleaders. So I laid
My priceless jewels in the moon's cold ray,
And looked upon them,—oh! the dear frail things!
I hid them in my heart, and turned away.

“Go, bring thy lyre,” the pitying angel said,
“It hath perchance some high and holy hymn,
Which may be offered at the Throne of Heaven,
And mingled with the living seraphim.”

225

I brought the harp, and as I touched the strings,
Each threw its holiest gem upon my breast,
But as I looked upon them, I beheld
My heart—my heart on every one impressed.

“Give me a prayer,” she said, “one earnest prayer
That hath upon its wing no human stain.”
“Yes! I can find a sinless prayer,” I said;
And sought it with a prayer, but sought in vain.

“I have no pure memento then,” I sighed,
“Which may in Heaven's bright treasury be kept;—
Thou hast been mine in vain, departing year!
Oh, lost for ever!”—Bitterly I wept.

And then the angel smiled. “Thou'st found the gift,”
She whispered. “These are penitential tears;
I bear the humble pleaders up to God,
With better promise for the future years.”