Poems (Hale)/To my Brother

by Mary Whitwell Hale

TO MY BROTHER.

My brother! on thy natal day,
My heart a sister's meed would pay:
Thou canst not read the thoughts that swell
Fast gushing, from love's fountain cell;
Yet couldst thou hear my secret prayer,
Thy name would be recorded there.

My brother! Time's fleet wings have shed
His many changes o'er each head.
Joy's thrilling whispers have been heard,
And sorrow's fount of tears been stirred;
Yet has he left our hearts the same,—
Still bright, affection's hallowed flame.

Though long since hand in hand, we trod
The pebbled strand, the verdant sod,—
Though Time has breathed his varied strain,
The song of joy, the knell of pain,—
Though now, with yearning hearts we trace
Our sainted mother's vacant place,—

He cannot break the chain of love,
That links us to our home above:
There strains of seraph sweetness rise;
The smile of God illumes its skies.
No tone is heard of human wo,
Where joy's rich notes harmonious flow.

And, brother! by the hope of heaven,
To cheer our earthly dwelling given,
The faith, which views Aer spirit, where
No cloud can dim the holy air,
O! let us love, while yet shall beam
Life's sunlight o'er time's flowing stream.