EARTH'S MISSIONER. (A Fragment.) IN awe he stood!-behind him lay the waste Not of the earth but spirit! Then the god- Of unknown impulse shook him, like the hill He knew it then! the eternal language broke The heavens, the earth, shone, or were hid in night, "So, with the eternal woods that murmuring wave, Or lost in wonder over nature's grave, From the strange passing show, stealing some theme "And oft thou wept'st and bow'dst thy spirit down Of heaven revealed, and prophet's imagery, Repine not on thy way, but let one thought. R. ON RECEIVING AN AUTOGRAPH POEM BY HENRY KIRKE WHITE FROM HIS SISTER. THE years which o'er the relics pass But deeper in reflection's glass The expressive lights they shed; Ev'n from the dead they rise, they speak And chronicles in light Those features, which destruction's veil Which wraps thy form in night; As once I bent above thy tomb, By fond Affection's silent tear, If then my footstep echoed not If then the arches of the spot Gave back no sorrowing sound, No uttered tones it will employ, I could I could but with a holy awe I would not wish thee to return Though we should cease to weep: Oh then, young lover of the lyre! Of thy sweet influences, to leven The vigils which thy heart has kept, If thou, who mov'st in glory now, And boughs rent by thy sister's arm J. H. W. THE END. Printed by C. E. Knight, St. Catherine's, London. |