Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 13 1825.pdf/5



Ask'st thou my home?—my pathway wouldst thou know, When from thine eye my floating shadow past? Was not my work fulfill'd and closed below? Had I not lived and loved?—my lot was cast.

Wilt thou ask where the nightingale is gone, That, melting into song her soul away, Gave the spring-breeze what witch'd thee in its tone? —But while she loved, she lived in that sad lay.

Thinks't thou my heart its lost one hath not found? Yes! we are one, oh! trust me, we have met,— Where nought again may part what Love hath bound, Where falls no tear, and whispers no regret.

There shalt thou find us, there with us be blest, If as our love thy love is pure and true! There dwells my father*, sinless and at rest, Where the fierce murderer may no more pursue.

And well he feels, no error of the dust Drew to the stars of heaven his upward ken, There it is with us, ev'n as is our trust, He that believes, is near the Holy then.

There shall each feeling, beautiful and high, Keep the sweet promise of its earthly day— Oh! fear thou not to dream with waking eye, There lies deep meaning oft in childish play. F. H.