THE OLIVE TREE. 
171 
ILLUSTRATION OF THE SENTIMENT. 
Come, while the morning of thy life is glowing, 
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die ; 
Ere the gay spell that earth is round thee throwing 
Fades, like the crimson from a sun-set sky. 
Life is hut shadows, save a promise given, 
Which lights up sorrow with a fadeless ray, 
O touch the sceptre ! with a hope in heaven ; 
Come, turn thy spirit from the world away ! 
Then will the crosses of this brief existence 
Seem airy nothing to thine ardent soul, 
And, shining brightly in the forward distance, 
Will, of thy patient race, appear the goal:— 
Home of the weary, where, in peace reposing, 
The spirit lingers in unbounded bliss; 
Though o’er its dust the uncertain grave is closing, 
Who would not early choose a lot like this ? 
Mbs. Hale. 
