254 LAURA M. THURSTON. [1830-40. Shall we shrink from pain and strife Upon its banks, the modest violet. While our Captain leads the way ! The yellow cowslip, and the harebell Shall we, for the love of life, grew! Cast a Saviour's love away ? The wild rose, and the eglantine, per- Rather gird his armor on, fumed Fight the battles of the Lord, The air with fragrance, and the mountain Till the victory be won, thyme And we gain our long reward. Gave richer odor to the balmy gale. That gently kissed it on its rocky bed. Oh ! may many a radiant gem. Souls redeemed by us from woe. Sparkle in the diadem To us, there was a secret charm, which gave Double attraction to the attractive scene: That our Leader shall bestow. Change and trial here may come ; But no grief may haunt the breast, It was the charm of Love that dwelt within. When we reach our heavenly home, The sacred union of congenial hearts. Find our everlasting rest. 'Twas this that made the summer heaven so bright, Broken is our household band. The air so fragrant, and the gale so soft. Hushed awhile our evening hymn ; 'Twas this that gave such beauty to the But there is a better land, flowers ; Where no tears the eye shall dim ! And made the porch, with rose and wood- There is heard no farewell tone, bine twined, On that bright and peaceful shore ; Seem like the entrance into Paradise. There no parting grief is known, For they meet to part no more. ! 'twas a luxury of bliss to dwell In the sweet quiet of that pleasant home — To find the lover — husband, met in one; The pride of manhood, and the grace of youth ; A DREAM OF LIFE. The lotty brow — the intellectual eye — The voice whose tones of melody could Deep within a vale still Our cottage stood, hid by embowering Awake a thrill of rapture, unexpressed trees. And unacknowledged, once, to my own No idle footsteps wandered near; no heart ; voice, To love, and feel it were no crime to love, Save the sweet singing of the birds, that And find that love returned, with interest ; hid To offer up the incense of the heart. Their heads amid the foliage, and poured A willing sacrifice, unto our God forth And to each other — thus to share our Strains of unwonted melody; or where bliss, The streamlet softly rippled through the And feel it but the foretaste of a rest dale, ■ Beyond the grave. Was it not happi- Gently meandering with unwearied song. ness?
