ECHOES.

A breath | A breath

And a sigh,— | And a sigh,—

How we fly | How we fly

From Death! | From Death!—

A palm | Sing on

Warm pressed, | O our bird!

As we guessed | Thou art heard

Love's psalm. | Alone.

A word | We know

Breathed close, | No life,

And then rose | Neither strife,

The bird | Nor woe,

That cowers | Nor aught

In the wood | But this hour,—

‘ Mid a flood | Love's dower

Of flowers, | Dear bought.—

Till Love's | Death's voice

Heart sighs, | Is away,

Like the cries | And we may

Of doves,— | Rejoice.

Then sings | The bird

His song, | Of our song

Beating strong | May be long

White wings,— | Unheard,

Heart clear | But, Dear,

Though faint, | Bend low;

Like a saint | It is now

In prayer.— | We hear.

He reigns | Dear Heart

In power, | Your kiss!—

And Love's hour | After this

Disdains. | We part.

Forget | A breath

For a day | And a sigh,—

All his sway, | How we fly

Life's fret. | From Death!