Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/380

 3(U PHCEBE GARY. [1840-50. RECONCILED. O, YEARS, gone down into the past ; What pleasant memories come to me, Of your untroubled days of peace, And hours of almost ecstasy! Yet would I have no moon stand still, Where life's most pleasant valleys lie ; Nor wheel the planet of the day Back on his pathway through the sky. For though, when youthful pleasures died, My youth itself went with them, too; To-day, aye ! even this very hour, Is the best hour I ever knew. Not that my Father gives to me More blessings than in days gone by ; Dropping in my uplifted hands All things for which I blindly cry : But that his plans and purposes Have grown to me less strange and dim ; And where I cannot understand, I trust the issues unto him. And, spite of many broken dreams, This have I truly learned to say — Prayers, which I thought unanswei'ed once. Were answered in God's own best way. And though some hopes I cherished once Perished untimely ere their birth, Yet have I been beloved and blessed Beyond the measure of my worth. And sometimes in my hours of grief, For moments I have come to stand Where in the sorrows on me laid, I felt the chastening of God's hand ; — Then learned I that the weakest ones Are kept securest from life's harms ; And that the tender lambs alone Are carried in the shepherd's arms — And, sitting by the way-side blind, He is the nearest to the light, Who crieth out most earnestly, " Lord, that I might receive my sight!" O feet, grown weary as ye walk, Where down life's hill my pathway lies, What care I, while my soul can mount, As the young eagle mounts the skies! O eyes, with weeping faded out. What matters it how dim ye be ? My inner vision sweeps untired The reaches of eternity ! death, most dreaded power of all, When the last moment comes, and thou Darkenest the windows of my soul, Through which I look on nature now ; Yea, when mortality dissolves, Shall I not meet thine hour unawed ? My house eternal in the heavens Is lighted by the smile of God ! THE FANTASY. Once, charmed by thy most pleasant smile, And listening to thy praises, such As woman, hearing all the while, I think could never hear too much — I had a pleasant fantasy. Of souls that meet, and, meeting, blend ; And, hearing that same dream from thee, I said I loved thee, O my friend ! That was the flood-tide of my youth, And now its calm waves backward flow ; I cannot tell if it Avere truth, Nor whether I do love or no.