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TO MARGARET IN HEAVEN.
I.
I loved thee not, I knew thee not, I never heard thy name,Till they told me that thy spirit pure had left its mortal frame;
Thy voice, thy smile, thy pleasant ways can never be to me
The treasures, which they are to some, of mournful memory:
When I gaze into the throng'd abyss of youth's departed years,
Amidst the forms, that meet me there, no trace of thee appears;
And if I strive to picture thee to Fancy's inward eye,
I see indeed a shadowy dream of beauty flitting by;
A thoughtful brow, a look lit up by faith and love divine,—
But not the true, the mortal brow, the look that once was thine.
II.
And shalt thou then depart from earth, and take thy shining placeAmong the brightest daughters of our lost and ransom'd race,
Without one passing thought from me, one feeling of regret
Unfelt for other Christian saints whose eyes and mine ne'er met?
Shall I hear of all thy patient pangs, thy meekly yielded breath,
Yet think of thee—as merely one who died a Christian death?—
Undistinguish'd in my mental eye, from all the sainted dead
Whose souls the spirit cleansed from sin, for whom the Saviour bled?
And, if we meet hereafter, in the mansions of the blest
Shall I then, by no assured mark, discern thee from the rest?
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III.
Not so; we two are strangers,—we were never friends on earth;We never slept beneath one roof, nor sate beside one hearth.
And yet, methinks, we are not strange,—so many chains there be
Which seem to weave a viewless band between my soul and thee.
Sweet sister of my early friend, the kind, the single-hearted,
Than whose remembrance none more bright still gilds the days departed;
Beloved, with more than sister's love, by some whose love to me
Is now almost my brightest gem in this world's treasury—
Shall I not love thee, sainted one, to whom such love was given?
Shall I not mourn thy loss on earth, yet hail thy flight to Heaven?
IV.
Thy grave is wet with bitter tears from eyes whose friendly smileHath power to cheer my sinking heart, my heaviest cares beguile;
The cordial tones and kindly looks, which gladden me and mine,
Oft smiled and sounded pleasantly in unison with thine:
And should it be God's holy will that we their graves should see,
Our tears will flow as fast for them as theirs have flow'd for thee.
Thou must not be estranged from us—we too must share thy love;
We claim thee for our spirit friend, our sister saint above.
Where'er thy present home may be, whate'er thy present bliss,
We call thee, from thine own bright world, to smile on us in this.
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V.
If blessed souls may wander from the region of their rest,—If thou watchest still the infant's sleep who lately drain'd thy breast,—
If still around the nuptial bed thy phantom footsteps glide,—
If still thou walk'st invisible by thy saintly parent's side,—
We bid thee—wilt thou hear us—from the haunts thou hold'st so dear,
To join awhile our fireside group, and view our friendly cheer.
Hover near us, in thy holiness,—smile sweet on home and hearth,
Let thy unseen presence soothe our woes and sanctify our mirth;
So may we with thy spirit hold communion calm and high,
Till we follow thee, by Jesu's grace, to thy home beyond the sky.
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