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And when thy soul, from trammels free,
Is soaring to the spirit's home, Think of me, - pray for me, - for me!
THE RISING EAGLE.
My bird, the struggle's over!
Thy wings at length unfurled, Will bear thee, noble rover !
Through yon blue airy world. Thy fearless breast has shaken
Earth's dew and dust away ;
Thine eye its aim has taken;
Its mark the orb of day.
Up, up! the faster leaving
Thy rocky nest below,
The lighter shalt thou go.
Thou soon shalt over-sweep, Where all is bright before thee,
To swim the upper deep.
Through seas of ether sailing,
Thou lofty, valiant one! The breath of morn inhaling,
Thy course is to the sun!
The strife was all in lifting
Thy breast from earth, at first, The poising, and the shifting,
To balance, was the worst.
And so with us; — 'tis spreading
Our pinions for the skies,
The first essay to rise.
Our balance, that we shun: With thousand ties besetting,
We shrink from breaking one.
But when we've fairly started,
And cleared from all below, How free and buoyant-hearted,
On eagle-wings we go!
And as our bosoms kindle
With pure and holy love, How all below will dwindle,
And all grow bright above !
The world that we are leaving
Looks little in our sight,
We seek the Source of Light!
Aside thy doubt and fear, Mount up, where all is lasting ;
For all is dying here!
Then, as an eagle training
Her tender young to fly,
Will lift thee to the sky.
Thou’lt feel thy cares are drowned, Where Heaven's bright Sun is pouring
A flood of glory round!
H. F. GOULD.
THE SLEEPING CHILD.
A BROOK went dancing on its way,
From bank to valley leaping;
A lovely infant sleeping.
Broke not the spell that bound him, Like music breathing in his dream
A lullaby around him.
It is a lovely sight, to view,
Within this world of sorrow,
One spot which still retains the hue
That earth from Heaven may borrow! And such was this, -a scene so fair,
Arrayed in summer brightness, And one pure being resting there,
One soul of radiant whiteness !