156 ADDRESS TO A DYING FRIEND. She has knocked, she has entered! blest spirit, farewell! We rejoice in thy bliss, though our loss we deplore: It is joy that thou art where the blessed ones dwell; But, oh! it is grief we behold thee no more! MRS. OPIE. BEREAVEMENT. HEN some beloveds, 'neath whose eyelids lay Did leave me dark before the natural sun, And I astonied fell, and could not pray, A thought within me to myself did say, "Is God less God, that thou art left undone ? Rise, worship, bless Him! in this sackcloth spun, As in that purple!"-But I answer, Nay! What child his filial heart in words can loose, If he behold his tender father raise The hand that chastens sorely? Can he choose But sob in silence with an upward gaze ? And my great Father, thinking fit to bruise, Discerns in speechless tears, both prayer and praise. MRS. E. B. BROWNING. RIENDS of faces unknown and a land Who tell me how lonely you stand, With a single gold curl in the hand While you ask me to ponder and say Shall I speak like a poet, or run Into weak woman's tears for relief? Oh, children!-I never lost one,— ONLY A CURL. "God lent him and takes him," you sigh; -Nay, there let me break with your pain : God's generous in giving, say I,— And the thing which He gives, I deny That He ever can take back again. He gives what He gives. I appeal 159 And the babe cries!-has each of us known Full in nature) the child is our own, Life of life, love of love, moan of moan, Through all changes, all times, everywhere. He's ours and for ever. Believe, O father!-O mother! look back To the first love's assurance. To give 160 ONLY A CURL. He gives what He gives. Be content! He resumes nothing given,-be sure! He lends not; but gives to the end, And finish it up to your dream, Or keep,-as a mother will toys Too costly, though given by herself, Till the room shall be stiller from noise, And the children more fit for such joys, Kept over their heads on the shelf. So, look up, friends! you, who indeed Have possessed in your house a sweet piece Of the heaven which men strive for, must need Be more earnest than others are-speed Where they loiter, persist where they cease. |