O, that some spirit form would come,
        From the fair realms of heaven above,
    And take my outstretched hand in hers,
        To bathe me in angelic love! 
    O that these longing, peering eyes,
        Might pierce the shadowy curtain’s fold,
    And see in radiant robes arrayed,
        The friends whose memory I do hold
    Close, close within my soul’s deep cell! 
    O, that were well!  O, that were well! 
    I’ve often thought, at midnight’s hour,
        That round my couch I could discern
    A shadowy being, from whose eye
        I could not, ah!  I would not turn. 
    It seemed so sisterly to me,
        So radiant with looks of love,
    That ever since I’ve strove to be
        More like the angel hosts above. 
    The hopes, the joys were like a spell,
    And it was well!  Yes, it was well! 
    And every hour of day and night
        I feel an influence o’er me steal,
    So soothing, pure, so holy, bright,
        I would each human heart could feel
    A fraction of the mighty tide
        Of living joy it sends along. 
    Then why should I complain, and ask
        Why none of heaven’s angelic throng
    Come to this earth with me to dwell,
    For all is well,—­all, all is well!

A SONG FROM THE ABSENT.

TO THE LOVED ONE AT HOME.

    Away from home, how slow the hours
        Pass wearily along! 
    I feel alone, though many forms
        Around my pathway throng. 
    There’s none that look on me in love,
        Wherever I do roam;
    I’m longing for thy gentle smile,
        My dearest one, at home. 
    I walk around; strange things I see,
        Much that is fair to view;
    Man’s art and Nature’s handiwork,
        And all to me is new. 
    But, ah!  I feel my joy were more,
        If, while ’mid these I roam,
    It could be shared with thee I love,
        My dearest one, at home. 
    Blow, blow ye winds, and bear me on
        My long and arduous way! 
    Move on, slow hours, more swiftly move,
        And bring to life the day
    When, journey done, and absence o’er,
        No more I distant roam;
    When I again shall be with thee,
        My dearest one, at home.

TWILIGHT FOREST HYMN.

The hour of parting.

    Friends who here have met to-day,
    Let us sing our parting lay,
    Ere we hence do pass away,
        Ere the sun doth set. 
    As we’ve trod this grassy earth,
    Friendships new have had their birth,
    And this day of festive mirth
        We shall ne’er forget. 
    Rock, and hill, and shading tree,
    Streamlet dancing to the sea,