 | Stories that might be true |  |
57
TO E. M. ON HER BIRTHDAY.
The thoughts, the names, that to the heart lie nearest,
Dwell ever there, and find no voice in song;
It broods above the wealth it holds the dearest
In joy, whose fulness words could only wrong.
Dwell ever there, and find no voice in song;
It broods above the wealth it holds the dearest
In joy, whose fulness words could only wrong.
Yet its deep blessings, fervent and unspoken,
Are not enough to consecrate the day
That gave Thee unto me! Some gentle token
Must mark it ere it pass upon its way;
Are not enough to consecrate the day
That gave Thee unto me! Some gentle token
Must mark it ere it pass upon its way;
And be a Sign, whereon thine eye may linger
In after days, and find it pointing yet
Upon Life's dial, with a silent finger
To memories too tender for regret!
In after days, and find it pointing yet
Upon Life's dial, with a silent finger
To memories too tender for regret!
For there, as Thought its backward course retraces,
The shadow, more than ten degrees removed,
Falls now on sunny, now on shady places,
Yet meets no hour when Thou wert not beloved!
The shadow, more than ten degrees removed,
Falls now on sunny, now on shady places,
Yet meets no hour when Thou wert not beloved!
58
We will not chide with Time, dear friend, nor waken
A sigh for hopes that with him harshly fared;
All, all the years upon their wings have taken,
But dearer, sweeter, makes what they have spared:
A sigh for hopes that with him harshly fared;
All, all the years upon their wings have taken,
But dearer, sweeter, makes what they have spared:
Unto the chain that long hath firmly bound us,
They add some link yet brighter than the last;
They leave us ever richer than they found us,
To reckon o'er the treasure of the Past!
They add some link yet brighter than the last;
They leave us ever richer than they found us,
To reckon o'er the treasure of the Past!
June 23, 1849.
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