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366 ELIZABETH F. ELLET. Give back, oh, smiling deep! The heart's fair sunshine, and the dreams of youth That in thy bosom sleep— Life's. April innocence, and trustful truth! The tones that breathed of yore In thy lone murmurs, once again restore! Where have they vanish'd all?— Only the heedless winds in answer sigh— Still rushing at thy call, With reckless sweep the streamlet flashes by! And idle as the air, Or fleeting stream, my soul's insatiate prayer! Home of sweet thoughts—farewell! Where'er through changeful life my lot may be, A deep and hallow'd spell Is on thy waters and thy woods for me! Though vainly fancy craves Its childhood with the music of thy waves LINES. "Forgetting those things which are behind."—Phil. iii. 13. Look not upon the past—the mournful past. In its stern grasp the joys and hopes of youth— The forms that smiled upon us, wreath'd with light Then beaming from the morning sky of life— Are held:—the forms to which affection clung; Towards which the lone and stricken spirit yearns; And the grim gaoler will not let them go! Far off and dimly seen, like buried wealth In cold dark ocean caves—the treasure lie, While o'er them rolls th' impenetrable deep, And its hoarse murmur wails the ever lost. ELIZABETH F. ELLET. 367 Look not upon the past—the bitter past. Its spectral pageants haunt tee!—Darkly there Gathers a throng, from whose pursuing gaze Thou fain would'st turn away. The hours misspent— The wasted energies—the gift abused— The feelings wrong'd—the blighted hopes—stand there. The sins thou deemedst trivial, and the world Deem'd virtues haply, tower to giant height, And flout thee with their scorn. The hidden crimes Cast off their mask, and fill thee with affright. Time, that relentless creditor, there stands, Presenting his account, and bidding thee Tremble at his dread records, and prepare The reckoning to abide. Look not upon The past—the gloomy past. 'Tis stoled in grief. 'Tis the domain of evil—dark and sad To human woes and errors. There, too, broods The cloud of wrath divine. Thou May's forget— Is the kind sentence Heaven writes out for man. Forget thy years of folly—years of crime. Lo, the unstained future! 'tis thine own, With all its glorious aims, its boundless hopes; And thou May's claim this bright inheritance Free from all hindrance—so the eye of faith Be fix'd on Him who was content to bear For thee the shame and sorrow of the past. THE WAVES THAT ON THE SPARKLING SAND. The waves that on the sparkling sand Their foaming crests upheave, Lightly receding from the land, Seem not a trace to leave.
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 18:18:10