Words rarely spoken at Lester Hall,
Forgotten soon when they fell at all;
Of grand old themes—of the world to be—
Of the Open Door—and the Crystal Sea—
Or tender words that were set afloat
On the faithful air from a fisher's boat—
Of the lilies, safe in the better Care
Than the shining gems of a monarch are.—
Then the hungry soul from its harbor slipped
For a better port, and its Master shipped,
Through the Open Door to the Crystal Sea,
On the sunless light of the "time to be;"
Out of discord, pain, and misplaced endeavor,
Out of worldly care, "out of style," for ever.
Then the wounded hearts, as they saw her go,
Lighter held the earth and its shining show,
Learning all too late, as they weep to-day,
That an angel tarried, but could not stay.
THE EVERGREEN'S MOAN.
I THOUGHT, in early spring, how fair
'Twould be to bloom for ever—
To wear my gallant Lincoln green
Untouched by time or weather.
I saw the maples' golden gown
About her cold feet lying,
