TWO POEMS TO HARRIET BEECHER STOWE

SISTER, we bid you welcome,— we who stand

On the high table-land;

We who have climbed life's slippery Alpine slope,

And rest, still leaning on the staff of hope,

Looking along the silent Mer de Glace,

Leading our footsteps where the dark crevasse

Yawns in the frozen sea we all must pass,—

Sister, we clasp your hand!

Rest with us in the hour that Heaven has lent

Before the swift descent.

Look! the warm sunbeams kiss the glittering ice;

See! next the snow-drift blooms the edelweiss;

The mated eagles fan the frosty air;

Life, beauty, love, around us everywhere,

And, in their time, the darkening hours that bear

Sweet memories, peace, content.

Thrice welcome! shining names our missals show

Amid their rubrics’ glow,

But search the blazoned record's starry line,

What halo's radiance fills the page like thine?

Thou who by some celestial clue couldst find

The way to all the hearts of all mankind,

On thee, already canonized, enshrined,

What more can Heaven bestow!