“At length, oh joy beyond all joys! When we believed him dead, One calm and sunny afternoon, As she lay on her bed In quiet sleep, methought below I heard my brother’s tread. “I rose, and on the chamber stair, I met himself--no other-- More beautiful than ere before, My tall and manly brother! I should have swooned, but for the thought Of my poor sleeping mother. “I cannot tell you how we met;-- I could not speak for weeping; Nor had I words enough for joy,-- My heart within seemed leaping, I should have screamed, but for the thought Of her who there lay sleeping! “That Marc returned in joy to us, My mother dreamed e’en then, And that prepared her for the bliss Of meeting him again;-- To tell how great that bliss, would need The tongue of wisest men! “His lightest tone, his very step, More power had they to win My drooping mother back to life, Than every medicine; She rose again, like one revived From death where he had been! “The story that my brother told Was long, and full of joy; Scarce to the city had he come, A poor and friendless boy, Than he chanced to meet a merchant good, From whom he asked employ. “The merchant was a childless man; And in my brother’s face, Something he saw that moved his heart To such unusual grace; ‘My son,’ said he, ‘is dead, wilt thou Supply to me his place?’ “Even then, bound to the golden East, His ship before him lay; And this new bond of love was formed There, standing on the quay; My brother went on board with him, And sailed that very day! “The letter that he wrote to us, It never reached our hand; And while we drooped with anxious love, He gained the Indian strand, And saw a thousand wondrous things, In that old, famous land. “And many rich and curious things, Bright bird and pearly shell; He brought as if to realize The tales he had to tell; My mother smiled, and wept, and smiled, And listened, and grew well. “The merchant loved him more and more, And did a father’s part; And blessed my brother for the love That healed his wounded heart; He was a friend that heaven had sent Kind mercy to impart. “So do not droop, my gentle friend, Though grief may burden sore; Look up to God, for he hath love And comfort in great store, And ofttimes moveth human hearts To bless us o’er and o’er.” A SWINGING SONG. Merry it is on a summer’s day, All through the meadows to wend away; To watch the brooks glide fast or slow, And the little fish twinkle down below; To hear the lark in the blue sky sing, Oh, sure enough, ’tis a merry thing--But ’tis merrier far to swing--to swing!