Ah, happy hours!  Around them cling
  The dearest joys that life may bring,
    And all the world’s despairing cries
    Are soothed to sleep with lullabies
  That banish every bitter thing,
      When Christmas comes!

WHEN THOU ART NEAR.

  When thou art near, with gladdest grace
  My heart is held in fond embrace,
    For laughing lips with raptures bless
    The toils and tears of my distress,
  And woes within me have no place.

  The halting hours with hurried pace
  Whirl wildly on through happy space,
    And life is light with happiness,
      When thou art near.

  Like mortals whom an angel race
  Renews with gladness face to face,
    I thrill with Love’s unseen caress
    That holy hands upon me press,
  And Heaven’s pleasures all I trace,
      When thou art near.

HE SLEEPS AT LAST.

  He sleeps at last!  The vales of rest
  Are waiting for the war-worn breast,
    And glorious angels fondly spread
    The sweetest roses for his bed. 
  While countless millions call him blest.

  Fame welcomes him with glad behest,
  While garlands on his brow are pressed,
    And laurels cluster o’er his head;
      He sleeps at last.

  O, deep the sorrows here confessed,
  Where Freedom makes eternal quest! 
    The wondrous chief that proudly led
    The long, blue lines that fought and bled,
  In peace is now no more distressed;
      He sleeps at last!

WHEN FORTUNES FROWN.

  When fortunes frown, the woes, bedight
  With brooding shadows, bring the night,
    While dismal sorrows darkness dole,
    And disappointments rise and roll
  Above the longings for the light.

  Despair, with hands that curse and blight,
  Sows weakness in the hearts of might
    Until they falter near the goal,
      When fortunes frown.

  But onward still!  The valleys white
  With Heaven’s blossoms are in sight;
    The Holy Mountains, knoll on knoll,
    Are waiting for the Master Soul,
  And he shall conquer for the right,
      When fortunes frown!

WHEN WE SHALL MEET.

  When we shall meet, I strangely know
  The mad emotions that shall flow
    Across my heart all quivering,
    Beneath the raptures he shall bring
  From angel years that gladdened so.

  And I all shy and silent grow
  Beneath his glance of gladness, though
    Wild yearnings through my bosom spring,
      When we shall meet.

  Till joyful tears of passion show,
  And to his kind embrace I throw
    My heart unworthy, and I cling
    With deathless fondness to the king
  I worshipped in the Long Ago,
      When we shall meet!