Indian Legends and Other Poems Part 9

I sought the hush of the midnight air, And wept till the founts were dry; The earth was clad in a wintry garb, But the star host filled the sky.

And then I remembered the faith divine And the loftier life to come, And felt the shadow of Death depart From my childhood's sacred home.

And often now when my heart is faint With earth and its wearying care, When my soul is sick with a feverish thirst And burdened with contrite prayer,

I hasten forth to the starry gems, That circle the brow of night, And track with them the eloquent depths Of the boundless Infinite.

They whisper low of a holier life And a faith sublime and high; And again I fancy each golden beam The glance of a seraph's eye,

As in days of yore, when a careless child, I stole to my mother's knee, And asked of the wonderful points of light That shone o'er the deep, blue sea.

A MOTHER'S PRAYER.

I knelt beside a little bed, The curtains drew away, And, 'mid the soft, white folds beheld, Two rosy sleepers lay; The one had seen three summers smile And lisped her evening prayer; The other,--only one year's shade Was on her flaxen hair.

No sense of duties ill performed Weighed on each heaving breast, No weariness of work-day care Disturbed their tranquil rest; The stars to them as yet were in The reach of baby hand, Temptation, trial, grief, were words They could not understand.

But in the coming years I saw The turbulence of life O'erwhelm this calm of innocence With melancholy strife; "From all the foes that lurk without, From feebleness within, What Sovereign guard from Heaven," I asked, "Will strong beseeching win?"

Then to my soul a vision came, Illuming, cheering all, Of him who stood with shining front On Dothan's ancient wall; And, while his servant's heart grew faint As he beheld with fear The Syrian bands encompa.s.sing The city far and near,

With lofty confidence to his Sad questioning replied, "Those armies are outnumbered far By legions at our side:"

Then up from starry sphere to sphere, Was borne the Prophet's prayer, "Unfold to his blind sight, O G.o.d!

Thy glorious hosts and fair."

The servant's eyes bewildered gazed On chariots of fire, On seraphs clad in mails of light, Resistless in their ire; On ranks of angels marshalled close, Where roving comets run, On silver shields and rainbow wings, Outspread before the sun.

I saw the Syrian hosts, at noon, Led sightless through the land, And longed to grasp the Prophet's robe Within my feeble hand; While my whole soul went out in deep And pa.s.sionate appeal, That faith like his might set within My babes' pure hearts its seal.