146 HOME SICKNESS. Do we not feel you near? does not your breath O'er the sad heart like dew upon a flower? Together have we talked of life and death, All things are yours-the world of life and death; Come! come! the glory and the victory! HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each chasing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal. Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers Into one beautiful and perfect whole; And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day. EDWIN ARNOLD. NEGLECTING THE PATTERN. A WEAVER sat one day at his loom, Among the colours bright, With the pattern for his copying Hung fair and plain in sight. But the weaver's thoughts were wandering Away on a distant track, As he threw the shuttle in his hand Wearily forward and back. And he turned his dim eyes to the ground, And tears fell on the woof, For his thoughts, alas! were not with his home, Nor the wife beneath its roof; NEGLECTING THE PATTERN. When her voice recalled him suddenly 66 To himself, as she sadly said: Ah, woe is me! for your work is spoiled, And what will we do for bread ?" And then the weaver looked, and saw His work must be undone ; 149 For the threads were wrong, and the colours dimmed, Where the bitter tears had run. "Alack, alack!" said the weaver, If I had not looked at my work, but kept Ah! sad it was for the weaver, "The colours that we had to weave But we wove the tissue wrong, and stained |