Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/374

Who beneath the sable pall
Hath the poet's lyre let fall?
Who, that won a nation's trust,
Sleep in silence and in dust?
While with faint and trembling fires,
Fearfully my heart inquires,
Hears it not an answer swell,
"God hath ordered, all is well."

Home!—my home!—though earth and sky
Veil thee from my longing eye,
Still though envious leagues remain
Ere thy vine-clad porch I gain,
Lightest leaf that wooed the gale,
Frailest plant with petals pale,
That beside thy threshold grew,
Ne'er have faded from my view;
On my cheek, mid cloud and storm,
Still thy parting kiss was warm;
O'er my dreams thine accents free
Stole like angel melody;
Little footsteps, light as wings,
Hands that swept the tuneful strings,
Lips that touched with filial flame,
Syllabled a mother's name,
Watch and ward for thee have kept
Marshalled round me while I slept;
And when loftier mansions prest
Countless pleasures on their guest,