A weary woman,
Pale, worn, and thin,
With the brand upon her
Of want and sin,
Heard the Child Angel
And took her in.

Took her in gently,
And did her best
To dry her pinions;
And made her rest
With tender pity
Upon her breast.

When the eastern morning
Grew bright and red,
Up the first sunbeam
The Angel fled;
Having kissed the woman
And left her—­dead.

VERSE:  RETURNED—­“MISSING” (FIVE YEARS AFTER)

Yes, I was sad and anxious,
But now, dear, I am gay;
I know that it is wisest
To put all hope away:-
Thank God that I have done so
And can be calm to-day.

For hope deferred—­you know it,
Once made my heart so sick: 
Now, I expect no longer;
It is but the old trick
Of hope, that makes me tremble,
And makes my heart beat quick.

All day I sit here calmly;
Not as I did before,
Watching for one whose footstep
Comes never, never more . . . 
Hush! was that someone passing,
Who paused beside the door?

For years I hung on chances,
Longing for just one word;
At last I feel it:- silence
Will never more be stirred . . . 
Tell me once more that rumour,
You fancied you had heard.

Life has more things to dwell on
Than just one useless pain,
Useless and past for ever;
But noble things remain,
And wait us all:  . . . you too, dear,
Do you think hope quite vain?

All others have forgotten,
’Tis right I should forget,
Nor live on a keen longing
Which shadows forth regret:  . . . 
Are not the letters coming? 
The sun is almost set.

Now that my restless legion
Of hopes and fears is fled,
Reading is joy and comfort . . .
. . .  This very day I read,
Oh, such a strange returning
Of one whom all thought dead!

Not that I dream or fancy,
You know all that is past;
Earth has no hope to give me,
And yet:- Time flies so fast
That all but the impossible
Might be brought back at last.

VERSE:  IN THE WOOD

In the wood where shadows are deepest
From the branches overhead,
Where the wild wood-strawberries cluster
And the softest moss is spread,
I met to-day with a fairy,
And I followed her where she led.

Some magical words she uttered,
I alone could understand,
For the sky grew bluer and brighter;
While there rose on either hand
The cloudy walls of a palace
That was built in Fairy-land.

And I stood in a strange enchantment;
I had known it all before: 
In my heart of hearts was the magic
Of days that will come no more,
The manic of joy departed,
That Time can never restore.

That never, ah, never, never,
Never again can be:-
Shall I tell you what powerful fairy
Built up this palace for me? 
It was only a little white Violet
I found at the root of a tree.