60

DAS LIEBEN'S ZIEL.

DAS LIEBEN'S-ZIEL.

WE seek that which we ne'er can win-
And love what cannot last;

Our life is but a thought between
The future and the past.

We mourn for things all fled away:
For feelings time has chilled;
And cherish for some future day,
Hopes, ne'er to be fulfilled!

We struggle through life's dreamy years,
With few glad visions blest;

And when our last, best home appears,

We enter it-to rest!

ANON.

TO JULIA.

61

TO JULIA.

WHEN Time was entwining the garland of years, Which to crown my beloved was given,

Though some of the leaves might be sullied with

tears,

Yet the flowers were all gathered in heaven.

And long may this garland be sweet to the eye,
May its verdure forever be new;

Young love shall enrich it with many a sigh,
And sympathy nurse it with dew.

T. MOORE.

62

THE HOUR GLASS.

THE HOUR-GLASS.

MARK the golden grains that pass
Brightly through this crystal glass;
Measuring, by their ceaseless fall,
Heaven's most precious gift to all:
Pauseless till the sand be done,
See the silent current run;
Till, its onward treasure shed,
When another hour is fled,

Its task performed, its travel past,
Like mortal man it rests at last;
Yet let some hand invert the frame,
And all its powers return again;
For all the golden grains remain,
To work their little hour again.
But who shall turn the glass for man,
From which the golden current ran ?
Collect again the precious sand

Which time has scattered with his hand ?
Bring back life's stream with vital power,

And bid it run another hour?

A thousand years of toil were vain,

To gather up one single grain.

MRS. MILNE.

ABSENCE.

63

ABSENCE.

TO MY MOTHER.

My birth-day! O beloved mother!
My heart is with thee o'er the seas!
I did not think to count another
Before I wept upon thy knees-
Before this scroll of absent years
Was blotted with thy streaming tears.
My own I do not care to check-
I weep-albeit here alone-
As if I hung upon thy neck,
As if thy lips were on my own-
As if this full, sad heart of mine
Were beating closely upon thine.
Four weary years! how looks she now?
What light is in those tender eyes?
What trace of time has touched the brow
Whose look is borrowed of the skies

That listen to her nightly prayer?

How is she changed since he was there
Who sleeps upon her heart alway-
Whose name upon her lips is worn-
For whom the night seems made to pray-
For whom she wakes to pray at morn-
Whose sight is dim-whose heart-strings stir-
Who weeps these tears-to think of her!-

64

ABSENCE.

I know not if my mother's eye

Would find me changed in other things;
I've wandered beneath many skies
And tasted many bitter springs,

And many leaves once fair and gay,

From youth's full flower have dropped away-
But as these looser leaves depart,

The lessened flower gets near the core;
And when deserted quite, the heart
Takes closer what was dear of yore,

And leaves to those who loved it first,

The sunshine and the dew by which its bud was

nursed.

Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?

Am I remembered in my home?

When those I love for joy are met,

Does some one wish that I would come?
Thou dost! I am beloved of thee-
But as the school-boy numbers o'er,
Night after night, the Pleiades,
And finds the stars he found before,-
As turns the maiden oft her token,
As counts the miser o'er his gold,
So, till life's "silver cord is broken,"
Would I of thy love be told.--

My heart is full-mine eyes are wet

Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wan

derer yet?

Oh! when the hour to meet again