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328 CATHERINE H. ESLING.

What myriads unnumber'd have sought its repose,
Since the day when the sun on creation first rose:
And there, till earth's latest, dread morning shall break,
Shall its wide generations their last dwelling make!
But beyond is a world-how resplendently bright!
And all that have lived shall be bathed in its light!
We shall rise-we shall soar where earth's sorrows shall cease,
Though our mortal clay rests in the Valley of Peace!

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CATHERINE H. ESLING.

THIS lady, best known as Miss Catherine H. Waterman, has long been an able contributor to the periodical literature of the country. A selection from her writings, entitled "The Broken Bracelet and other Poems," has recently been published in Philadelphia. Here poems are smoothly and gracefully written; always pleasing, from the deep and pure affection they display. Tender and heart-stirring, indeed, is the pathos of that exquisite strain-Brother, come home!

Miss Waterman was born in Philadelphia, in 1812, married there, in 1840, to Captain Esling, and has remained there all her life; never having left her home for a greater distance than forty miles, or for a longer period than forty-eight hours. Well may such a nestling bird sing sweetly of home's quiet joys!

BROTHER, COME HOME.

COME home,
Would I could send my spirit o'er the deep,
Would I could wing it like a bird to thee,
To commune with thy thoughts, to fill thy sleep
With these unwearying words of melody;
Brother, come home.


CATHERINE H. ESLING.      329

Come home,
Come to the hearts that love thee, to the eyes
That beam in brightness but to gladden thine,
Come where fond thoughts like holiest incense rise,
Where cherish'd memory rears her altar's shrine;
Brother, come home.

Come home,
Come to the hearth-stone of thy earlier days,
Come to the ark, like the o'er-wearied dove,
Come with the sunlight of thy heart's warm rays,
Come to the fire-side circle of thy love;
Brother, come home.

Come home,
It is not home without thee; the lone seat
Is still unclaim'd where thou were wont to be,
In every echo of returning feet,
In vain we list for what should herald thee;
Brother, come home.

Come home,
We've nursed for thee the sunny buds of spring,
Watch'd every germ the full-blown flowers rear,
Seen o'er their bloom the chilly winter bring
Its icy garlands, and thou art not here;
Brother, come home.

Come home,
Would I could send my spirit o'er the deep,
Would I could wing it like a bird to thee-
To commune with thy thoughts, to fill thy sleep
With these unwearying words of melody;
Brother, come home.

28*

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 16:29:06 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 13:46:45