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410 POEMS.
*TO MY SISTERS.
How blest is he that, like Tobias, goes
Upon his way by some good angel led
Who gives him light when midnight shadows close,
Who gives him strength when sinks his weary head.
Thus once my way was dark; oh, fain would I
That none might tread a path so full of gloom;
I knew not whither from deep woe to fly,
From anguish that my life-blood would consume!
My cheek was pale, my eyes were running o’er
With bitter tears. My heart in desolation
Saw suffering, like a vast and rankling sore,
Prey on the vitals of God’s fair creation.
I looked for dawn, I found but nightly gloom, —
No hope of happier days, no blessed faith ;
Life burned, like some wild meteor in a tomb,
In my sad heart: I only prayed for death.
Then spake a voice, like angel-whispers blest,
And at those tones of love, so soft and clear
Stilled was the tumult wild, peace filled my breast,
And lo! those angels were my sisters dear.
The skies grew bright; my tear-dimmed eyes once more
With hopeful gaze I raised to heaven above ;
I looked around; earth smiled from shore to shore,
For joy had wooed me in my sisters’ love.
O God, ’tis sweet such solace to receive,
With nobler aims to see new springs draw nigh!
My sisters, lo! wild storms no longer heave,
My soul is calm, my tears are tears of joy.
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