79 



mmn t<^^ 1«^- 



They say wlien I grieve that my sorrow is wasted, 

 They tell me he's gone and will ne'er come again, 

 And the pleasures with him that so briefly I tasted 

 Have left but their mem'ry to soften my pain. 

 He was my playmate, and he was my lover, 

 No sunshine e'er gladdened if he was not there, 

 And now the bright meadows we once wandered ovei", 

 Without him seem barren, deserted, and bare ; 



O'er the wild heather 



We've rambled together. 

 But now he's in Heaven and waits for me there. 



At night when the stars shine so softly above me, 



I fancy his eyes through them beam on me now, 



And his voice in the wind whispers forth " still I love thee," 



And strange shadows beckon me with them to go. 



The wild flowers we loved with dew-drops are weeping, 



As though in my sorrow they too had a share, 



And the song-birds that flit o'er the grave where he's sleeping, 



All hush their glad music whilst hovering there ; — 



And faint voices whisper 



" Weep not troubled sister 



For now he's in heaven and waits for thee there." 



But why should these visions come crowding before me ? 

 And why should my friends look so sadly and weep ? 

 And whose is that voice that now comes to implore me 

 In sorrowing accents to shake ofE this sleep ? 

 Ah ! mother weep not, should I sleep and ne'er Waken, 

 Kind angels are waiting my spirit to bear. 

 And thou my loved parent will not be forsaken, 

 For God in his mercy wiU soften thy care. 



Let this promise cheer thee 



Though I am not near thee, 



I shall meet him in Heaven and wait for thee there. 



J. H. 



