The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm. O fear not in a world like this, To suffer and be strong. FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, Dance upon the parlour wall; Then the forms of the departed The beloved ones, the true-hearted, He, the young and strong, who cherished By the road-side fell and perished, They, the holy ones and weakly, Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly, And with them the Being Beauteous, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep, Takes the vacant chair beside me, And she sits and gazes at me, Uttered not, yet comprehended, O, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died! FLOWERS. SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars they are, wherein we read our history, Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, |