To Anniversary—To E. G. H.


I KNOW thou art awake to-night—
 Thy tears are flowing fast,
Keeping our Saint's nativity
 And dreaming of the past.

Thou weepest for the calm sweet smile
 That ne'er again can charm,
For the dear head that, hour by hour.
 Droop'd meekly on thine arm;

For the young lip where wisdom hung—
 The honey on the rose;
For the high spirit calm'd and bow'd—
 Faith's beautiful repose.

Ah! which of us that watch'd that tide
 Of ebbing life depart,
Can hear its echoing surge to-night,
 Nor tears unbidden start?

But tears so blended as they rise,
 Of mingled joy and woe;
Like sourceless streams, we cannot tell
 What fountain bids them flow.

That gush of sorrow—could she rest
 Again upon thy side,
Uplooking with those patient eyes,
 Perchance she would not chide.

But couldst thou see her whom thy care
 So tended, worn and faint,
Clothed with the beauty of the blest,
 The glory of the Saint—

That beauty of the spirit-land
 Beyond our brightest dream—
Sure in thy soul the tide of joy
 Would drown that darker stream.

And varying thought in gentle strife
 Would all thy soul employ,
Of holy human tenderness
 With earnest Christian joy.

So keep we watch to-night, my love,
 And ever, at His feet
Who bade His angel at this hour
 Steal on her slumber sweet;

And suffer'd not his ruffling wing
 To break upon her ear,
But will'd that she should never know
 Death's agony and fear.

O Christ, our stay, our strength, as hers,
 Make, too, our dying bed,
'Tis but in presence of Thy love
 We dare recall the dead!
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