University of Virginia Library

W. G. T.

Alas! how little have I known thee, Brother,
How lightly prized the riches of thy worth;
How seldom sought thee out to cherish thee,
And sun my spirit in thy light of love!
How have I let the world and all its ways,
Absence and distance, cares and interests,
The many poor excuses that we make
For lax communion with a brother's heart,—
How have I stood aside, and left such tares
To grow up rank, and choke the precious seed!
How have I let such fogbanks of reserve,
Such idle clouds of undesign'd neglect
Hide from my spirit thy most lovely light!
—Alas!—too late:—but that we meet again,—
Where spirits are made perfect; and shall glow
With happier fervour in each other's joy;
For this our introductory world doth lead
To one where all is open, heart with heart
Commingling intimately as flame with flame:
Oh, not too late, dear Brother! for my soul
Was ever yearning secretly on thee;
Was ever full of thoughts unshown, unspoken,
That from the censer of affection rose
In ceaseless love for thee, my gentle Brother!
For, if an angel ever walk'd this earth
In blessed ministration of all good,
In meekness, patience, purity and truth,
In self-denying, and self-sacrificing,
In holiness and cheerfulness of life,
And all things else of beautiful and kind,
—Alas! we little heeded all thy worth
Till we had lost this angel unawares!