50 JULIA L. DUMONT, [1820-30. Yet, even through tears, like violets bathed in clews, Still yield to life a beauty and perfume. The hours when still, though blent with many a thorn. Beneath the feet blossom and verdure spring, To me are fled ; they may no more return, Nor time again one leaf of freshness bring. But ever shall my future day grow wan, And from life's shore the greenness fade away. Till the dull wave, that bears me darkling on, Reflect no image but of pale decay. Decay, whose gathering mildeAvs, o'er me spread. Shall dim each sense that drinks the summer beams ; The glorious odors life's full censers shed. The music-tones that thrill its earlier dreams. Well, let me meet the thought — it hath no power To daunt the soul that knows its heaven- ly birth ; Pass, pass away ! brief splendors of life's hour, The sights, the sounds, the gorgeous hues of earth. All sights, all sounds, all thoughts and dreams of time. Of a pure joy that wake the passing thrill. Are yet but tokens of that "better" clime, "Where life no more conflicts with change or chill. The flush, the odor of the summer rose, The breath of spring, the morning's robe of hght. The whole broad beauty o'er the earth that glows. Are of the land that knows no touch of blight. The melodies that fill the purple skies. The tones of love that thrill hfe's wide domain. Are all but notes of the deep harmonies Poured round the Eternal, in triumphant strain. And I, while through tliis fading form of dust, There burns the deathless spark, de- rived from Him, May look on change with calm, though solemn trust, Bearing a life its shadows may not dim. Oh bless'd assurance of exulting faith ! Humble, and yet victorious in its might, Through the dark mysteries of decay and death, Sustaining on, — a pillar still of hght. The life immortal ! of a peace intense. Holy, unchanging, save to brighter day, How fails the mind in upward flight im- mense, Wlien, to conceive it, human thoughts essay ! How fade the glories of our fairest spheres. As faith's fixed eye pursues that heaven- ward flight ! The hopes and joys, the pain, the passion- ate tears, How shado^v7 all — phantasmas of the night ! Wliat I am now, and what I once have been, E'en when each pulse with health's full bound was rife.
