O, the sky is blue above me, And the earth beneath is green, And softly bright the flowing light Floods the boundless space between. But what if the day should darken, And death’s dread shadows fall? I need not fear; with heaven so near, Why should the night appall? ’Tis but the peaceful portal Unto a morn immortal; For the light that once gladdened the garden’s deep gloom At last shall transfigure all blight into bloom. For over and under the soul’s sore strife Is the blessed law of an endless life; From the sod to the stars, and the stars to the sod, Sways the everlasting love of God. A PROPHECY. O happy, happy, happy boy! Let me tell you all your joy; Let me whisper in your ear All the secret of the seer. Let me tell your fortune fair To the wide and wandering air; Let me share my rapture rare With the social, songful air,-- With the gentle, genial air, Kind to laughter and to prayer. * * * * * Whatsoe’er the world may say, You shall have the right of way: You shall laugh, and you shall play, And, in merry roundelay, Dance with jolly faun and fay; You shall have the wealth of May For your dowry every day. * * * * * Nature, from her frailest spar To her oldest, utmost star, All her miracles shall bring For your blissful wondering;-- You shall be her priest and king. Knowing what was never known, Reaping what was never sown, You shall feel the world your own, On your universal throne. And, in holy place apart, (Blessed are the pure in heart!) In a halo of delight, Jubilant with glorious might, You shall walk with God in white. * * * * * This is all was shown to me Of the child’s futurity; What the youth and man will be-- Sealed is in mystery. Scarcely can his angel see, Face to face with Deity, Farther into certainty. _God exceed the prophecy!_ God be better to the boy Than the parent’s dream of joy. LITTLE RUTH. I cannot feel that she is gone So far, so far away; Her little heart close to my own Is beating day by day. Ah! tender are these human ties; May heaven at last reveal Why on her eyes a slumber lies E’en tears cannot unseal. A look this darkness would displace With a divine delight; The soul’s rare grace in her fair face. It was a blessed sight! Her hair a happy halo wore That lit the hearth and hall; Alas! no more my study door Heeds her confiding call. Dear lips! where mirth and music wrote The lore in Eden sung; Seemed every note from her sweet throat By elf or angel strung.