IN THE DISTANT YEARS.

We met last in the distant years, And parted, ne’er to meet again; My aching eyes were filled with tears, My heart was sore with untold pain. But, though we parted thus for aye, A lingering hope my heart yet holds, That we may meet again some day Ere Death shall shroud us in his folds. We parted; ’twas the old, old way; A too well-trusted friend’s deceit Had taken each from each away, Both hoping nevermore to meet. He thought that I was false; while I, Enshadowed under falsehood’s spell, In anger said a last good-bye To him I once had loved so well. But now I know the truth at last; I would I knew he knew the same, To come to me from out the past And tell me I was not to blame. But, ah! ’tis maybe all too late: That day of joy may never dawn; I can no more than watch and wait, And through the future years hope on. J. A. M‘Donald.