At even time it shall he light.

Ah rest my soul, for God is good,
Though sometimes faintly understood,
His goodness fills the solitude.

Fold up thy spirit,--trust the right,
As blossoms fold their leaves at night,
And trust the sun though out of sight.




A VALENTINE


At last, dear love, the day is gone,
The doors are barred--the lamps are lit,
The couch beside the fire is drawn,
The nook whore thou wert wont to sit;

The book is open at the place,
And half its leaves are still uncut,
And yet without thy listening face,
I cannot read, the book I shut,

And muse, and dream:--it is the day
When lovers, silent all the year,
Find tongues in floral tokens gay,
To whisper all they long to hear.