So in the way of all who lived before Thee

Swift shalt Thou pass from earthly scenes away: Well may'st Thou learn the lessons that they bore Thee, The oft sad lessons of a toilsome way;

So, if well learned, to find a joyous waking,

A hope fulfilled, a call to enter in,

A circle joined, where Death shall cause no breaking, A world where dwells no night, no grief, no sin!

BY AND BY.

"By and By," the wind is singing;
66 By and by," the heart replies;

Through the long summer grass
Where feet of children pass
And frolic winds go singing as they hie,
There childhood bends its ear

The happy song to hear,

And this the strain, the joys of "By and By."

Where lovers wand'ring go,

The maiden's cheeks aglow,

While sweet their thoughts as flowers that round them lie,

Still sings the rustling wind,

An echo sure to find,

And still the song, the joys of "By and By."

The mother rambles forth,

Of all the charms of earth,

The countless wonders of earth, sea and sky,
Telling her children young;

While by the wind is sung

In her glad ears the hopes of "By and By.”

The aged bending down,

Recalls the years long flown,

Their joys, their sorrows with full many a sigh;
But not life shadows all,

That length'ning round them fall,

Can hush the wind's glad song of "By and By."

The dying gazes round

With wonder, awe profound ;

Between two worlds his soul doth trembling lie:
He on earth's smiling face

Heaven's rising dawn can trace,

And feel his steps have reached the "By and By."

THE PASSING YEAR.

The year has passed with all its miracles,

Of Spring's soft budding leaves and opening flowers, Where the Creative Spirit walked anew

'Mid all the wonders of primeval hours.

Across the summer grass' electric spires

Came messages that man should still be blest; And o'er the grain's low-bending golden wires, That man was still Nature's invited guest.

Bright glowed the harvests over field and lea;

Soft blushed the fruits the orchard's green beneath, While Autumn wove with rich and tasteful hand, Of berries, grasses, leaves, a farewell wreath.

While o'er our land Peace spread her wings abroad,
Softly descending like the winter's snow,
Seeking War's crimson steps to cover o'er,
And seeds of mercy in dark furrows sow.

The Passing Year! oh! not a year doth pass
But bears the impress of the Father's love,
But shows the guidance of the Heavenly Hand
To point all weary souls beyond, above.

WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN?

"Would you be young again?

So would not I

One tear to memory given,

Onward I hie.

Life's dark flood forded o'er

All but at rest on shore,

Say, would you plunge once more,
With home so nigh?"

I'd not be young again though childhood drinks
The sweetest draught Life's cup can ever hold;
Though with its eyes my thought could picture heaven,
And see its pearly gates, its streets of gold.

Though through the rosy path of summer hours
My soul might wander 'mid its early dreams,
Seeing Life's road-side blossoming with flowers,
The Future radiant with Hope's golden beams.

Though friends were round with words of love and cheer,

Weaving with rainbow hues the web of life;

And I again Creation's song might hear,

With no sad chords of sorrow, sin, and strife.

For then should I life's sorrows all renew;

Earth would reveal once more her sad, stern face, Thorns would arise where once sweet blossoms grew, And falsehood stand where truth had seeming place.

Then space and time would early friends divide,
Cast lonely waifs upon Time's changing shore;
And watchful Death again be by my side,

With his short parting words, "No more! No more!"

I'd not be young again with home so nigh,

Welcomed through ripening age and gentle death ; Life's Autumn winds shall come with peaceful sigh, Life's wither'd hopes like leaves unheeded lie,

And like Day's parting tread the passing breath.

A brighter youth the passing soul shall know,
Fairer than Artist's thought or Poet's dream;
Our fading childhood is its type below,

A faint reflection on Time's hurrying stream.

DEATH.

Mysterious Death! Unto the arms of Sleep
How we resign ourselves with trusting ease;
His poppies wear, his hand in ours we keep,
And bid him lead us whereso'er he please.
So, softly wandering through the land of dreams,
We question not the way we shall return,
More than content if sleep doth bring us gleams
Of the beyond, of those for whom we yearn.

Why do we shrink from Death's kind, outstretched hand?

Because our faith cannot uplift the veil,

The Angel see, the herald of that land

Where life and love and joy shall never fail.
So, like a frightened child, we cling to Day,-
Nor know that starry worlds light all the way!

ON THE BIRTHDAY OF MY FRIEND, MISS E. A. S.

Soft wooing winds and April skies

When first the light filled thy young eyes

While like a tender lullaby

The early birds were warbling nigh;