Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/425

 1840-50.] AMANDA L. R. DUFOUR. 409 HOPE ON. CONFESSION. Toil on, toil on ! oh sore and weary- My senses wake to feeling's deepest thrill, hearted, When on mine ear the tones of thy dear Though shadows fall athwart the up- voice ward way; Melodious fall, hke the echoes of a harp Though beauty seem to have from earth Swept by the evening winds. departed, Thy presence wakes And through the gloom beams not one A wild, delirious joy within my heart, cheering ray. Tuning its thousand chords, with rapture Toil on, toil on ! Though there be doubt swelled. and danger Till every throbbing pulse leaps wild with Around thy path, with dauntless step love's proceed ; Intense emotion, and my very soul Though Hope speed by thee as a passing Seems but a part of thine. My life is held stranger. In sweet abeyance to thy gentle will. Forget not Him who comes in hour of Subdued and softened by the genial glow need Of thy soul-beauty. Every star that gems The azure sky, and every music-tone. Toil on, toil on ! let not thy spirit falter ; Whispering to spirit's ear, the sweetest The path was thorny that thy Saviour lays trod. Of brightest song-birds, rare and balmy With faith's strong hold grasp the eternal sweets altar, The freight from thousand blossoms, gush- And trust the mercy and the love of God. ing founts In sorrow's hour arouse thy troubled spirit. In forest depths, where cooling zephyrs Look round thee on the suffering ones make of earth ; Mysterious music at the midnight hour, Up, and do good to all! for all inherit 'Midst emerald leaves that arch the lonely Souls, like thine own, of an immortal dell— birth. All breathe of thy pure excellence, thy love. Fidelity, and truth. A holy spell, Toil on ! Hope will return with outspread pinions. A soft enchantment binds my spirit now. And bear thee onward to that realm of For thou art here, unseen, indeed unfelt. light. Save in my heart's depths. Beyond the portals of this earth's domin- Tameless was my soul ions, Ere it met thine. None knew the watch- "Where trembling faith is lost in glorious word-spell. sight. Could pass its portals, or subdue its will. Toil on, hope on ! To night succeedeth None held the key to my wild, wayward morning ; heart No storm so fearful that it lasts alway. That sat, like some sad hermit in his cell. Death comes at last ; greet joyfully his Alone and brooding o'er its destiny. warning ; None had explored the still, unbroken It ushers thee into eternal day. depths