OCCASIONAL POEMS. 605 



Hope's perfect mirror broken 

 Shadows of things unspoken 

 Why will not some sure token 

 Calm us to rest again ? 



Mixed with all earthly blessing 

 Lingers the fear distressing 

 Conscience within confessing 



Nothing of ours is pure. 

 Still must such thoughts upbraid us, 

 Seeking our own to aid us; 

 God, not ourselves, hath made us ; 



Trusting in Him we're sure. 



Thus, from our sorrows gleaning 

 Thoughts of the world's deep meaning, 

 Let us rejoice while leaning 



Firm on our Father's arm. 

 Now are we one for ever, 

 Joined so that none may sever, 

 Souls, so united, never 



Faint through mischance or harm. 



To K M. D. 



Aberdeen, 1858. 



IN the buds, before they burst, 

 Leaves and flowers are moulded ; 



Closely pressed they lie at first, 

 Exquisitely folded. 



Though no hope of change they felt, 



Folded hard together, 

 Soon their sap begins to melt 



In the warmer weather. 



Till, when Life returns with Spring; 



Through them softly stealing, 

 All their freshness forth they fling, 



Hidden forms revealing. 



