LOVE'S THREAD OF GOLD.

In the night she told a story,

In the night and all night through,

While the moon was in her glory,

And the branches dropped with dew.

‘ Twas my life she told, and round it

Rose the years as from a deep;

In the world's great heart she found it,

Cradled like a child asleep.

In the night I saw her weaving

By the misty moonbeam cold,

All the weft her shuttle cleaving

With a sacred thread of gold.

Ah! she wept me tears of sorrow,

Lulling tears so mystic sweet;

Then she wove my last to-morrow,

And her web lay at my feet.

Of my life she made the story:

I must weep — so soon‘ twas told!

But your name did lend it glory,

And your love its thread of gold!