I walked with joy: the path was smooth And rose-strewn, for all things to youth Seem beautiful; and in those childhood’s days Oft’ would I wander dreaming down the ways Which led into the grotto in the leafy wood, Where chestnut trees and tall laburnums stood, Waving their golden heads; and ’neath my feet Grew cowslips, anemones, and bluebells sweet; And past the statue of old “Time,” so scarred, Who, scythe in hand, in stony silence stared. And the green sward, like velvet carpet, spread, With the vast canopy of azure sky o’erhead. And down the slope where deer with lustrous eye And schools of rooks would weary homeward fly. Across the lake the swans would graceful glide, While we our daisy chain would weave, beside The bank where lay the water lilies white-- Where in our childish fancy dwelt a sprite. Ah, me! Those days returning nevermore! But thoughts remain alone of those sweet days of yore. I walked with grief. The way was rough and long. The world was gray and gloomy, and the voice of song Was hushed. No longer did the silver tones of dear Home voices with their music greet mine ear; But sudden memory would sometimes ope a door, And forms and faces, long since gone before, Would force the poignant tears of grief to flow-- For those dear vanished friends of long ago. I walked with Hope, who stretched a tender thread And led me on and upward, past the dead, Dark days. Then did my captive spirits find That disappointments and the years had sunk behind The grandeur and the majesty sublime Of higher thoughts, and hidden things divine. And sweet communion of kindred souls Without the mortal ban, as free as rolls The ocean when in placid mood; Or the pure air, pouring in joyous flood, Piercing the veil of flesh to see some noble spirit in its purity, With lofty and exalted mein in calm serenity, Making the common tasks a noble duty and a prayer, Ascending to the skies, and placing there A holy sacrifice--The altar place Heaven’s throne-- Making our Earth an Eden of our own. [Illustration: text decoration] TO SELENE. Pale queen of beauty, in thy cold abode Lonely thou art, lonely thou e’er wilt be; No sweet companion ever with thee rode Along that trackless waste of vast immensity. Or asked thee what dark secrets thou dost hold In thy deep jagged craters, now so dead, Which once with Vulcan’s rage and mutterings bold, Were filled with Jovian darts and thunders dread. Thou art a soul-less beauty, yet thy form Reflects its softly glowing radiance! And unborn millions yielding to thy charm Will bask in blissful dreams of dalliance.