Now she’s forsaken; nursing in sorrow,
Hate for the night, despair for the morrow!
She’d have the world think she’s happy and gay,—
A butterfly, roving wherever it may;
Sipping delight from each rose-bud and flower,
The charmed and the charmer of every hour.
She will not betray to the world all her grief;
She knows it is false, and will give no relief.
She knows that its friendship is heartless and cold;
That it loves but for gain, and pities for gold;
That when in their woe the fallen do cry,
It turns, it forsakes, and it leaves them to die!
But after the hour of the world’s bright show,
When hence from her presence flatterers go;
When none are near to praise or caress her,
No one stands by with fondness to bless her;
Alone with her thoughts, in moments like this,
She thinks of her days of innocent bliss,
And she weeps!-yes, she weeps penitent tears
O’er the shame of a life and the sorrow of years:
She turns for a friend; yet, alas! none is there;
She sinks, once again, in the deepest despair!
Blame her not! O blame not, ye fathers who hold
Daughters you value more dearly than gold!
But pity, O, pity her! take by the hand
One who, though fallen, yet nobly may stand.
Turn not away from her plea and her cries;
Pity and help, and the fallen may rise!
Crush not to earth the reed that is broken,
Bind up her wounds-let soft words be spoken;
Though she be low, though worldlings reject her,
Let not Humanity ever neglect her.
Beyond the dark, deep grave,
whose lowly portal
Must yet be passed by every living mortal,
There gleams a
’T is not of earth. It wavers not; it gloweth
With a clear radiance which no changing knoweth,
Constant and bright.
We love to gaze at it; we love to cherish
The cheering thought, that, when this earth shall perish,
And naught remain
Of all these temples,—things we now inherit,
Each unimprisoned, no more fettered spirit
Shall life retain.
And ever, through eternity unending,
It shall unto that changeless light be tending,
Till perfect day
Shall be its great reward; and all of mystery
That hath made up its earthly life, its history,
Be passed away!
O, joyous hour! O, day most good and glorious!
When from the earth the ransomed rise victorious,
Its conflict o’er;
When joy henceforth each grateful soul engages,
Joy unalloyed through never-ending ages,
THE SUMMER DAYS ARE COMING.