lips in sad caress?
How much of care had lighted That lingering, loving kiss, Had you in life but gave it— You never thought of this.
No loving hand e'er brightened Her life with tender care, No mother's baby-kisses Were ever hers to share.
Only for others caring, The long, long years have fled; Now, only, they say,—the neighbors— "Poor old Aunt Lucy's dead."
And they whisper a girl's ambition, A name in the world to make; 'Way back in her vanished youth-time, Gave up for a duty's sake.
But whatever had been the story Of love, or grief, or woe, It died with the heart, and no one Will ever care or know.
The hands were hard and toil-stained, And sallow the cheeks and chin, But whiter not the snow-wreath Than the soul that dwelt within.
And methinks a crown resplendent— Just over the waveless sea— With gems of self-denial, Awaits for such as she.
UNSPOKEN WORDS.
Unspoken words may thrill the heart, Their meaning be more deeply felt Than all the glowing oratory Poured at the shrine where reason knelt. The fairest pictures art conceives, The noblest sentiments of mind, The loveliest, purest gems of thought Are those which never are defined.
The hand that paints the rainbow dyes Ne'er leaves a trace its skill to show— The art that gilds the sunset skies And tints the flower, we may not know. Nor may we know the wizard power Which o'er our being wields control, Nor how, when silence seals the lips, Heart speaks to heart and soul to soul.
We do not know from whence the life Imbued in crystal drop of rain, Nor why, when torn and trampled on, The rose's fragrance will remain. Nor know we why the tender tone Will linger when love's dream is fled, Now why the smile we loved will live, Although the face it wreathed will be dead.
Some strangely fascinating spell Steals o'er the heart in ethic's hour; We know not what, nor how, nor why, Still must we own we feel its power— A power that wakens slumbering dreams, Intangible emotion swells, That penetrates the soul's deep fount, And greets the tide that
Prev.
Back
Top