Not a cloud to dim that sunshine, there no sorrow, no alarms, But around thee and beneath thee spread the Everlasting

arms.

There untravell'd worlds of beauty slow unfolding on our

sight,

Spann'd by heaven's eternal rainbow, interwoven love and

light.

But those glories none may utter: how should I then tell it

thee?

For how faint and far the glimmerings of the waves of heaven's Light-sea!

Yet, mine own one, tell me truly, think'st thou we shall love the less?

Will that ocean whelm the fountains of thine own true

heartedness?

Hark, thy beating heart makes answer in its old familiar

tone,

"All thine own on earth, beloved, and in glory all thine

TO MY SISTER, ON THE EVE OF HER

MARRIAGE.

I.

THOU art leaving the home of thy childhood,

Is the

Sweet sister mine:

song of the bird of the wild wood

Faint and far as thine?

Listless stray thy fingers through the chords,
Thy voice falters in the old familiar words;
What wilt thou for the young glad voices
Wherewith our earliest home rejoices?

A father's smile benign,

A mother's love divine,

Sweet sister mine?

II.

Lay thy hand upon thy mouth, brother,
Lay thy hand upon thy mouth;

One word thou hast spoken,—but another
Were perhaps too much for truth.
Home is left-oh! yes, if leaving
Be when home is in our heart:

Grieving-yes, 'tis grief, if grieving
Be for those who cannot part.

We are one, brother, we are one,-
Since first the golden cord was spun:
It may lengthen, but it cannot sever,

For, brother, it was twined—and twined for ever.

III.

Sister, touch again thy passionate lute

Chide no more-chide no more:

Sooner far my voice were ever mute,

Than to whisper our fond love were o'er.

But I grieve for hours gone by,

Of heart to heart, and eye to eye;
Oh, we cannot have the joy of meeting
Day by day thy sunny, smiling greeting;

142 TO MY SISTER, ON THE EVE OF HER MARRIAGE.

Nor canst thou a brother's fond caress,

Or a sister's searching tenderness;

Grieve I too for summer flowers,

In calm weather1

Cull'd together,

And the merriment of fireside hours.

Something whispers, though our heartstrings cannot sever, These are gone, sister,-gone for ever.

And for these I must repine,—

Sweet sister mine.

IV.

And my tears shall flow with thine, brother,

At the sound of those quick chimes;

And the thought of home-my father and my mother-
Overfloods my heart at times;

And my grief will have its way:

And though to-morrow

Joy chaseth sorrow,

Sorrow chaseth joy to-day.

"In a season of calm weather "-WORDSWORTH.

Tell me, wherefore should I lull myself asleep?

Let me weep, brother,―let me weep.

V.

Nay, I will not, cannot, sister, see them flow:

Weep no more, weep no more.

There is solace from the deepest of our woe,
That our partings will ere long be o'er.
We are one in joys undying,

In the family of Heaven,

And we mourn not, like the Pleiads ever sighing,
"We have lost our sister-we were seven.
Still, however wide our pilgrim footsteps roam,
Bright and glorious

Lie before us

Mansions in an everlasting home.

Trust me, sister; wherefore dost thou weep so sore?

Weep no more, sister,-weep no more.

For my spirit catches all the bloom of thine,

Nor can I in thy prime of bliss repine,

Sweet sister mine.