Dost thou remember that fair summer's day, As, sick and weary on my couch I lay, Thou broughtst this little book, and didst diffuse O'er my dark hour the light of Herbert's muse? The "Elixir," and "True Hymn," were then thy choice, And the high strain gained sweetness from thy voice. The book, before that day to me unknown, I took to heart at once, and made my own. Three winters and three summers since have passed, And bitter griefs the hearts of both have tried; Thy sympathy is lost to me at last; A dearer love has torn thee from my side; Scenes, friends, to me unknown, now claim thy care; No more thy joys or griefs I soothe or share; No more thy lovely form my eye shall bless; The gentle smile, the timid, mute caress, No more shall break the icy chains which may my heart oppress. New duties claim us both; indulgent Heaven Ten years of mutual love to us had given; The plants from early youth together grew, Together all youth's sun and tempests knew. At age mature arrived, thou, graceful vine! Didst seek a sheltering tree round which to twine; While I, like northern fir, must be content To clasp the rock which gave my youth its scanty nourishment. The world for which we sighed is with us now; No longer musing on the _why_ or _how_, _What_ really does exist we now must meet; Life's dusty highway is beneath our feet; Life's fainting pilgrims claim our ministry, And the whole scene speaks stern _reality_. Say, in the tasks reality has brought, Keepst _thou_ the plan that pleased thy childish thought? Does Herbert's "Hymn" in thy heart echo now? Herbert's "Elixir" in thy bosom glow? In Herbert's "Temper" dost thou strive to be? Does Herbert's "Pearl" seem the true pearl to thee? O, if 'tis so, I have not prayed in vain!-- My friend, my sister, we shall meet again. I dare not say that _I_ am always true To the vocation which my young thought knew; But the Great Spirit blesses me, and still, Though clouds may darken o'er the heavenly will, Upon the hidden sun my thoughts can rest, And oft the rainbow glitters in the west. This earth no more seems all the world to me; Before me shines a far eternity, Whose laws to me, when thought is calmly poised, Suffice, as they to angels have sufficed. I know the thunder has not ceased to roll, Not all the iron yet has pierced my soul; I know no earthly honors wait for me, No earthly love my heart shall satisfy. Tears, of these eyes still oft the guests must be, Long hours be borne, of chilling apathy; Still harder teachings come to make me wise, And life's best blood must seal the sacrifice.