An Autograph.
[Written for an old friend,
Rev. S. H. Emery, of Quincy III., who revisited
Whittier in 1868.]
The years that since we met have flown
Leave as they found me, still alone:
[
408]
No wife, nor child, nor grandchild dear,
Are mine the heart of age to cheer.
More favored thou, with hair less gray
Than mine, canst let thy fancy stray
To where thy little Constance sees
The prairie ripple in the breeze;
For one like her to lisp thy name
Is better than the voice of fame.
3d mo., 1870.
Pray give the ‘Atlantic’
A brief unpedantic
Review of
Miss Phelps' book,
Which teaches and helps folk
To deal with the offenders
In love which surrenders
All pride unforgiving,
The lost one receiving
With truthful believing
That she like all others,
Our sisters and brothers,
Is only a sinner
Whom God's love within her
Can change to the whiteness
Of heaven's own brightness.
For who shall see tarnish
If He sweep and garnish?
When He is the cleanser
Shall
we dare to censure?
Say to Fields, if he ask of it,
I can't take the task of it.
P. S.—For myself, if I'm able,
And half comfortable,
I shall run for the seashore
To some place as before,
Where blunt we at least find
The teeth of the
East wind,
And spring does not tarry
As it does at
Amesbury;
But where it will be to
I cannot yet see to.