A frost was in that moment to benumb My very sense of anguish—and I smiled. Freed by despair—what after-pang could come? She was his own—both Love’s. They roamed the wild, And knew not it was bleak:—the wooded dell They called not fair, for love had reconciled And blent all difference. From their spirits fell A glow that bathed creation. Where they stood Light was their shadow:—bliss unspeakable Became at once their being and its food:— The world they did inhabit was themselves; And they were Love’s—and all their world was good! As o’er a barren reef that sea-ward shelves Waves dash, their gladness sported o’er my fate; But in the abyss no line of pity delves Lay the wrecked hope which naught could re-create— At least I deemed so then: and yet we parted With blessings, and her eyes were dim with tears. She told me I had been her friend true-hearted— The friend she would recall in other years. These came; and when the storm was spent there darted Over my sombre deep as from the spheres, The memory of those words, at first revealing More present gloom from all the past endears. In time, their light and beauty o’er me stealing, Softened despair to grief; and in its dew My withered heart put forth one bud of feeling. I dared not hope its life:—fierce tempests blew From the cold east of Youth in day’s decline, And shook its tender petals:—still it grew! It grew and blossomed to a hope divine:— I might be like her in her nature’s worth; I might live for her though she was not mine! From her each better impulse should take birth— For her my song should raise and cheer mankind, And I would sow her influence through the earth. And, as by great attraction are combined All kindred essences—as waters blend With waters, flame with flame—and though confined By bounds material, each to other tend— Released from the division of our clay Again might be united friend with friend. For then, immortal and beyond decay, The store of love partaken richer grows: The torch that burned for one—for all, a day! Oh, ye whose hearts in _happy_ love repose, Your thankful blessings at its footstool lay, Since faith and peace can issue from its woes! * * * * * BY MISS MARIA J. McINTOSH.