So he crept to his poor garret, Poor no more, but rich and bright, Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light— Through the starry summer night. "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted; Did he dream that none spake harshly ?- And he thought his treasured roses "And he smiled, though they were fading; 66 Know, dear little one! our Father And in hearts that beat in Heaven, Lives divine and pure again!" Thus the angel ceased, and gently O'er his little burthen leant; While the child gazed from the shining, Wondering what that mystery meant. Then the radiant angel answered, And with tender meaning smiled: In the churchyard of that city And a humble grave beside it,- THE LITTLE FAIR SOUL. (A PARABLE.) A LITTLE fair soul, that knew not sin, And saw one striving to come in, Oh, brother, is it you?" he cried; "Your face is like a breath from home; Why do you stay so long outside? 66 I am athirst for you to come! Tell me, first, how our mother fares, And has she wept too much for me?" "White are her checks, and white are her hairs, 66 But not from gentle tears for thee." Tell me, where are our sisters gone?" "Alas! I left them weary and wan." "And, tell me, is the baby grown?" Alas! he is almost a man. THE LITTLE FAIR SOUL. II "Cannot you break the gathering days, And, let the light of death come through, Ere his feet stumble in the maze, Crossed safely by so few, so few? "For like a cloud upon the sea, That darkens till you find no shore, So was the face of life to me, Until I sank for evermore. "And like an army in the snow My days went by, a treacherous train, Each smiling as he struck his blow, Until I lay among them slain." "O brother! there was a path so clear!" "Yet sweep this needless gloom aside, "The gate is fast-the gate is fast!" "I cannot move this mighty weight, And none has ever said 'No' to me. "Sweet Saint, put by thy palm and scroll, And come undo the door for me!" "Rest thee still, thou little fair soul, It is not mine to keep the key." "Kind Angel, strike these doors apart! Up all the shining heights he prayed 66 But that poor Shadow still, outside, No eye beheld the pitying Face, The answer none might understand; But dimly through the silent space Was seen the stretching of a hand. SMEDLEY. |