Faith And Despondency
"The
winter
wind
is
loud
and
wild,
Come
close
to
me,
my
darling
child;
Forsake
thy
books,
and
mateless
play;
And,
while
the
night
is
gathering
gray,
We'll
talk
its
pensive
hours
away;—
"Ierne,
round
our
sheltered
hall
November's
gusts
unheeded
call;
Not
one
faint
breath
can
enter
here
Enough
to
wave
my
daughter's
hair,
And
I
am
glad
to
watch
the
blaze
Glance
from
her
eyes,
with
mimic
rays;
To
feel
her
cheek,
so
softly
pressed,
In
happy
quiet
on
my
breast,
"But,
yet,
even
this
tranquillity
Brings
bitter,
restless
thoughts
to
me;
And,
in
the
red
fire's
cheerful
glow,
I
think
of
deep
glens,
blocked
with
snow;
I
dream
of
moor,
and
misty
hill,
Where
evening
closes
dark
and
chill;
For,
lone,
among
the
mountains
cold,
Lie
those
that
I
have
loved
of
old.
And
my
heart
aches,
in
hopeless
pain,
Exhausted
with
repinings
vain,
That
I
shall
greet
them
ne'er
again!"
"Father,
in
early
infancy,
When
you
were
far
beyond
the
sea,
Such
thoughts
were
tyrants
over
me!
I
often
sat,
for
hours
together,
Through
the
long
nights
of
angry
weather,
Raised
on
my
pillow,
to
descry
The
dim
moon
struggling
in
the
sky;
Or,
with
strained
ear,
to
catch
the
shock,
Of
rock
with
wave,
and
wave
with
rock;
So
would
I
fearful
vigil
keep,
And,
all
for
listening,
never
sleep.
But
this
world's
life
has
much
to
dread,
Not
so,
my
Father,
with
the
dead.
"Oh!
not
for
them,
should
we
despair,
The
grave
is
drear,
but
they
are
not
there;
Their
dust
is
mingled
with
the
sod,
Their
happy
souls
are
gone
to
God!
You
told
me
this,
and
yet
you
sigh,
And
murmur
that
your
friends
must
die.
Ah!
my
dear
father,
tell
me
why?
For,
if
your
former
words
were
true,
How
useless
would
such
sorrow
be;
As
wise,
to
mourn
the
seed
which
grew
Unnoticed
on
its
parent
tree,
Because
it
fell
in
fertile
earth,
And
sprang
up
to
a
glorious
birth—
Struck
deep
its
root,
and
lifted
high
Its
green
boughs
in
the
breezy
sky.
"But,
I'll
not
fear,
I
will
not
weep
For
those
whose
bodies
rest
in
sleep,—
I
know
there
is
a
blessed
shore,
Opening
its
ports
for
me
and
mine;
And,
gazing
Time's
wide
waters
o'er,
I
weary
for
that
land
divine,
Where
we
were
born,
where
you
and
I
Shall
meet
our
dearest,
when
we
die;
From
suffering
and
corruption
free,
Restored
into
the
Deity."
"Well
hast
thou
spoken,
sweet,
trustful
child!
And
wiser
than
thy
sire;
And
worldly
tempests,
raging
wild,
Shall
strengthen
thy
desire—
Thy
fervent
hope,
through
storm
and
foam,
Through
wind
and
ocean's
roar,
To
reach,
at
last,
the
eternal
home,
The
steadfast,
changeless
shore!"
