It is strange; but Life’s currents drift us
So surely and swiftly on,
That we scarcely notice the changes,
And how many things are gone: 

And forget, while to-day absorbs us,
How old mysteries are unsealed;
How the old, old ties are loosened,
And the old, old wounds are healed.

And we say that our Life is fleeting
Like a story that Time has told;
But we fancy that we—­we only
Are just what we were of old.

So now and then it is wisdom
To gaze, as I do to-day,
At a half-forgotten relic
Of a Time that is passed away.

The very look of that Portrait,
The Perfume that seems to cling
To those fragile and faded letters,
And the Locket, and the Ring,

If they only stirred in my spirit
Forgotten pleasure and pain,—­
Why, memory is often bitter,
And almost always in vain;

But the contrast of bygone hours
Comes to rend a veil away,—­
And I marvel to see the stranger
Who is living in me to-day.

VERSE:  THE BRIDE’S DREAM

The stars are gleaming;
The maiden sleeps—­
What is she dreaming? 
For see—­she weeps. 
By her side is an Angel
With folded wings;
While the Maiden slumbers
The Angel sings: 
He sings of a Bridal,
Of Love, of Pain,
Of a heart to be given,—­
And all in vain;
(See, her cheek is flushing,
As if with pain;)
He telleth of sorrow,
Regrets and fears,
And the few vain pleasures
We buy with tears;
And the bitter lesson
We learn from years.

The stars are gleaming
Upon her brow: 
What is she dreaming
So calmly now? 
By her side is the Angel
With folded wings;
She smiles in her slumber
The while he sings. 
He sings of a Bridal,
Of Love divine;
Of a heart to be laid
On a sacred shrine;
Of a crown of glory,
Where seraphs shine;
Of the deep, long rapture
The chosen know
Who forsake for Heaven
Vain joys below,
Who desire no pleasure,
And fear no woe.

The Bells are ringing,
The sun shines clear,
The Choir is singing,
The guests are here. 
Before the High Altar
Behold the Bride;
And a mournful Angel
Is by her side. 
She smiles, all content
With her chosen lot,—­
(Is her last night’s dreaming
So soon forgot?)
And oh, may the Angel
Forsake her not! 
For on her small hand
There glitters plain
The first sad link
Of a life-long chain;—­
And she needs his guiding
Through paths of pain.

VERSE:  THE ANGEL’S BIDDING