Love is our refuge; only with mine eye [10] Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall: His habitation high is here, and nigh, His arm encircles me, and mine, and all. O make me glad for every scalding tear, For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain! [15] Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear No ill,—since God is good, and loss is gain. Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing; In that sweet secret of the narrow way, Seeking and finding, with the angels sing: [20] “Lo, I am with you alway,”—watch and pray. No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain; No night drops down upon the troubled breast, When heaven’s aftersmile earth’s tear-drops gain, And mother finds her home and heavenly rest. [25] [Page 390.] June Whence are thy wooings, gentle June? Thou hast a Naiad’s charm; Thy breezes scent the rose’s breath; Old Time gives thee her palm. [5] The lark’s shrill song doth wake the dawn; The eve-bird’s forest flute Gives back some maiden melody, Too pure for aught so mute. The fairy-peopled world of flowers, [10] Enraptured by thy spell, Looks love unto the laughing hours, Through woodland, grove, and dell; And soft thy footstep falls upon The verdant grass it weaves; [15] To melting murmurs ye have stirred The timid, trembling leaves. When sunshine beautifies the shower, As smiles through teardrops seen, Ask of its June, the long-hushed heart, [20] What hath the record been? And thou wilt find that harmonies, In which the Soul hath part, Ne’er perish young, like things of earth, In records of the heart. [25] [Page 391.] Wish And Item Written to the Editor of the _Item_, Lynn, Mass. I hope the heart that’s hungry For things above the floor, Will find within its portals [5] An item rich in store; That melancholy mortals Will count their mercies o’er, And learn that Truth and wisdom Have many items more; [10] That when a wrong is done us, It stirs no thought of strife; And Love becomes the substance, As item, of our life; That every ragged urchin, [15] With bare feet soiled or sore, Share God’s most tender mercies,— Find items at our door. Then if we’ve done to others Some good ne’er told before, [20] When angels shall repeat it, ’T will be an item more. [Page 392.] The Oak On The Mountain’s Summit Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand,— Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand,— Nature divine, in harmony profound, With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round. [5] And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place Guard’st thou the earth, asleep in night’s embrace,— And from thy lofty summit, pouring down Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown?