ingered
Just a few hours more;
Or had this letter reached her
Just one day before!

I can almost pity
Even him to-day;
Though he let this anguish
Eat her heart away.

Yet she never blamed him:-
One day you shall know
How this sorrow happened;
It was long ago.

I have read the letter:
Many a weary year,
For one word she hungered--
There are thousands here.

If she could but hear it,
Could but understand;
See--I put the letter
In her cold white hand.

Even these words, so longed for,
Do not stir her rest;
Well--I should not murmur,
For God judges best.

She needs no more pity,--
But I mourn his fate,
When he hears his letter
Came a day too late.

VERSE: THE REQUITAL

Loud roared the Tempest,
Fast fell the sleet;
A little Child Angel
Passed down the street,
With trailing pinions,
And weary feet.

The moon was hidden;
No stars were bright;
So she could not shelter
In heaven that night,
For the Angels' ladders
Are rays of light.

She beat her wings
At each window pane,
And pleaded for shelter,
But all in vain:--
"Listen," they said,
"To the pelting rain!"

She sobbed, as the laughter
And mirth grew higher,
"Give me rest and shelter
Beside your fire,
And I will give you
Your heart's desire."

The dreamer sat watching
His embers gleam,
While his heart was floating
Down hope's bright stream;
. . . So he wove her wailing
Into his dream.

The worker toiled on,
For his time was brief;
The mourner was nursing
Her own pale grief:
They heard not the promise
That brought relief.

But fiercer the Tempest
Rose than before,
When the Angel paused
At a humble door,
And asked for shelter
And help once more.

A weary woman,
Pale, worn, and thin,
With the brand upon her
Of want and sin,
Heard the Child Angel
And took her in.

Took her in gently,
And did her best
To dry her pinions;
And made her rest
With tender pity
Upon her breast.

When the eastern morning
Grew bright and red,
Up the first sunbeam
The Angel fled;
Having kissed the woman
And left her--dead.

VERSE: RETURNED--"MISSING" (FIVE YEARS AFTER)

Yes, I was sad and anxious,
But now, dear, I am gay;
I know that it is wisest
To put all hope away:-
Thank God that I have done so
And can be calm to-day.

For hope deferred--you know it,
Once made my heart so sick:
Now, I expect no longer;
It is but the old trick
Of hope, that makes me tremble,
And makes my heart beat quick.

All day I sit