longing prove The foretaste of diviner love! The day is done.
Its afterglow Along the west is burning low. My visitors, like birds, have flown; I hear their voices, fainter grown, And dimly through the dusk I see Their 'kerchiefs wave good-night to me,— Light hearts of girlhood, knowing nought Of all the cheer their coming brought; And, in their going, unaware Of silent-following feet of prayer: Heaven make their budding promise good With flowers of gracious womanhood!
R. S. S., at Deer Island on the Merrimac. make, for he loved thee well, our Merrimac, From wave and shore a low and long lament For him, whose last look sought thee, as he went The unknown way from which no step comes back. And ye,O ancient pine-trees, at whose feet He watched in life the sunset's reddening glow, Let the soft south wind through your needles blow A fitting requiem tenderly and sweet! No fonder lover of all lovely things Shall walk where once he walked, no smile more glad Greet friends than his wh