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THE LIGHT OF STARS.

Within my breast there is no light,

But the cold light of stars;

I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars.

The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,

Serene, and resolute, and still,

And calm, and self-possessed.

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,

As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

O fear not in a world like this,

And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is

To suffer and be strong.

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FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.

WHEN the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night

Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

And, like phantoms grim and tall,

Shadows from the fitful fire-light

Dance upon the parlour wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;

The beloved, the true-hearted,

Come to visit me once more;

He, the

young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife,

By the road-side fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,

Who the cross of suffering bore,

Folded their pale hands so meekly,

Spake with us on earth no more!

FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.

And with them the Being Beauteous,

Who unto my youth was given,

More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

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With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,

Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me

With those deep and tender eyes,

Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,

Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

O, though oft depressed and lonely,

All

my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!

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Bright and glorious is that revelation,

Written all over this great world of ours;

Making evident our own creation,

In these stars of earth,-these golden flowers.

FLOWERS.

And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing,

Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part

Of the self-same, universal being,

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Which is throbbing in his brain and heart.

Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining,
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day,
Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining,
Buds that open only to decay;

Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues,
Flaunting gayly in the golden light;
Large desires, with most uncertain issues,
Tender wishes, blossoming at night!

These in flowers and men are more than seeming; Workings are they of the self-same powers,

Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming,

Seeth in himself and in the flowers.

Everywhere about us are they glowing,

Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born; Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing, Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn ;

Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing,

And in Summer's green-emblazoned field, But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing,

In the centre of his brazen shield;

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