Poems (Helen Jenkins)/To My Sister

For works with similar titles, see To My Sister.

TO MY SISTER.

Thou askest a memorial:
What shall affection bring?
A prayer from the heart's inmost depths
Were holiest offering.

Though humble is the gift I lay
Upon this sacred shrine,
Perchance, it may be dear to thee
Because the gift be mine.

I cannot, from my inner world
Of tossing, billowy thought,
Bring thee a sparkling pearl, a gem
Elaborately wrought;

Yet, on the wings of love, my thought
Soars from the chaos there,
And for each dear one fondly breathes
A soul-impassioned prayer.

For thee I ask the richest gift
To mortal ever given,—
The beacon light of faith and hope
To guide thy feet to heaven.

May truest friendship ever twine
A garland for thy brow;
And may the virtuous and good
On thee their love bestow.

And as the morning of thy life
Thus far has smoothly flown,
So may God bless thee evermore,
And those thou callst thine own.

Yet, sister, if the clouds do lower
Darkly around thy head,
Hear thou above the tempest's roar,
"'Tis I, be not afraid!"

And when thine eyes at last shall trace
The vista dim of years,
O, mayst thou read a blotless page,—
A page undimmed by tears!

May this around thy couch of pain
A heavenly halo fling;
And may the victory of faith
Rob death of all its sting!

'Tis ever true, "the might have been"
Seems something sweeter far
Than all our gifts and blessings,
However great they are;
For the brightness of their beauty
Some blot will surely mar.