Oh rain!--that sobs against my window pane,--
Ye beat upon my heart, which beats but only
To clasp and shelter my lost lamb again.

Peace--peace, my soul:--I know that in another
And brighter land my darling walks and waits,
Where we shall surely meet and clasp each other,
Beyond the threshold of the shining gates.



MARGUERITE


Marguerite,--oh Marguerite!
Thy sleep is sound, and still and sweet,
Framed in the pale gold of thy hair,
Thy face is like an angel's fair,
Marguerite,--oh Marguerite!

Tender curves of cheek and lips--
Sweet eyes hid in long eclipse--
Pale robes flowing to thy feet--
Folded hands that lightly meet,--
Marguerite,--oh Marguerite!

Sleep'st thou still?--the world awakes,--
Still the echo swells and breaks,--
Over field, and wood, and street
Easter anthems throb and beat,--