Select Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3733, 11 December 1880, Page 1

Select Poetry.

FOR THE LAST TIME. There comes an end to enrythmf, my dearest: „ . -,--■■ The lengest hour of agonf must pass, , The sweetest hoar of Joy must end, alas f And not the stnnsjth of ail the lore thou beareet Can motion back to »• the solemn dawn . 1 Of this new journey, whither Tarn drawn By force resisUsss and ntvisfblsw^ How the dim light weayea shadows in the room, . ■*■ .—- — ' And sounds mysterious treaWr «SiOTgb> the gloom I ' - . ~ Thou art so braTe,ieath hath no fears for the«v And love supreme waits in the awful hush* Listening with jealous fears for the dark "t"JsV ' Of angel's wings in this hour gfren to me F^the laat time. Thou hsarssti »y^eloTed—well I knew, By the mute agony in those sad eyes— My font's rofee unto thine so low That it seems unto others echoing sighs. What words would not be oold at scoh a time r But, lore, I understand thee, lying here, And closer hold thy throbbing palm in mike, And wait with thee the end which drawetii near. Tet I, that am so quiet, well can feel The pain for thee of this last hour on' earth, ' Nor would I leare thes lonely by our hearth, For all the knowledge dying can rereal, If my will was unto my soul a law.. We are two children: OTer us the whole , Commanding universe of God doth roll. Draw oloser and hearken! for methought I saw An aureate light, and heard a stir of wingsDear lore, I see and hear so many things • For the last time. v I have no fear of that whioh is to ceme—r' Hast thou had fear when thouwert nearing homef , ■ If my lest sleep be dreamless and profound L) it not well with me ? Or if it be Bioh in fulfilment of God's promises. May not my spirit murmur unto thee, Coming tt ere,,upon tome gruiout air, To touch thy lips and bring the visions Wr r I will be with thee when the rases blow, , And all the riohness of the ye»r doth flow. In gorgeous wares of color through the land. , When dasies stir the sod, or snow flakes. shroud, When the low sun gold-edges some bright oloud, Or the pure dawn rises at command, Let things sputk of me i make me a part Of all tby life, of all thy loving heart, And keep me always in thy memoir As closely as to*night tbou boldest me For the last rime. > s

Tet eren at this hour there comes a thought—' ■ ' ' ■ -. • -.' A rision of the time when I shall: fade

To a dim spectre in thy memory's shade i But ah! tby loring eyes too oft have sought The light in mine to wholly lose the trace * Of absent features; thou wilt keep a plaoe In thr heart's temple saored to tby dead. Dost'thou hesr musio P Bend thy patient head Closer to mine—l cannot see thee now* „ . Though thy mute lips are pressed upon my , browj -, , . . And dark death angel, Israel, is near, And a strange light from outer worlds shines dear; -. I see the glow around thee softly creep— Kiss me bnoe more, dear lore, before I sleep, ' y Forthelasttime. ' - ; Mat V. HiwiW. —From The Oalifornian. -