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I HAD a message to send her,

To her whom my soul loved best; But I had my task to finish,

And she was gone home to rest.

To rest in the far bright Heaven :
Oh, so far away from here,
It was vain to speak to my darling,
For I knew she could not hear!

I had a message to send her,
So tender, and true, and sweet,
I longed for an Angel to bear it,
And lay it down at her feet.

I placed it, one summer evening,
On a Cloudlet's fleecy breast;
But it faded in golden splendour,
And died in the crimson West.

I gave it the Lark next morning,
And I watched it soar and soar;
But its pinions grew faint and weary,

And it fluttered to earth once more.

To the heart of a Rose I told it;
And the perfume, sweet and rare,
Growing faint on the blue bright ether,
Was lost in the balmy air.

I laid it upon a Censer,
And I saw the incense rise ;
But its clouds of rolling silver

Could not reach the far blue skies.

I cried in my passionate longing:-
"Has the earth no Angel-friend
Who will carry my Love the message
That my heart desires to send?"

Then I heard a strain of music,
So mighty, so pure, so clear,
That my very sorrow was silent,
And my heart stood still to hear.

And I felt in my soul's deep yearning,
At last the sure answer stir :-
"The music will go up to Heaven
And carry my thought to her."

It rose in harmonious rushing
Of mingled voices and strings,
And I tenderly laid my message
On the Music's out-spread wings.

I heard it float farther and farther,
In sound more perfect than speech:
Farther than sight can follow,

Farther than soul can reach.

And I know that at last my message
Has passed through the golden gate:
So my heart is no longer restless,

And I am content to wait.

A. A. PROCTER.

SOUL OF MY

FRIEND.

SOUL of my Friend! if in thy heavenly rest
Thou dost our earthly turmoil still survey,
And whom thou lovedst ere thou went'st away
Them lovest yet, be with me, Spirit blest!
If not in presence, yet in power confest.
For I am sorely tried in this my day,
And almost-but I know not what I say—
Almost could doubt if all be for the best.
Come, therefore, thou, with purgèd insight wise,
Interpret me the good of all these fears;

This burning under which my spirit lies

Is it the brand which heals, or that which sears?

O God! I see a trembling in thine eyes,

As when deep joy falls back, disdaining tears.

T. BURBIDGE.

THE LULLABY.

I SAW two children hush'd to death,
In lap of One with silver wings,
Hearkening a lute, whose latest breath
Low linger'd on the trembling strings.

Her face is very pale and fair,
Her hooded eyelids darkly shed
Celestial love, and all her hair

Is like a crown around her head.

Each ripple sinking in its place,

Along the lute's faint-ebbing strain, Seems echoed slowlier from her face, And echoed back from theirs again.

Yes, now is silence.

Do not weep.

Her eyes are fixed; observe them long; And spell, if thou canst pierce so deep,

The purpose of a nobler song.

W. ALLINGHAM.

A DIRG E.

CALM on the bosom of thy God,

Young spirit! rest thee now!
Even while with us thy footstep trod,
His seal was on thy brow.

T

ERRAT A.

Page 17, line 14-for has read hath.
Page 35, line 2-for and read with.

Page 35, line 17-erase the second comma.

Page 62, line 19-for love read lone.

Page 127, line 16--for Spirit read Spirit of.

Page 136, line 9-for drear read dear.

Page 153, line 13-for warm read warn.

Page 171, line 5-for second comma put full stop. Page 213, line 15-for breas read breast.

Page 226, line 3—for their read your.

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