THOUGHTS.

———

BY MARIE ROSEAU.

———

I have thoughts that like the eagle soar to a daring height,

That boldly revel in the glare of strong and dazzling light,

That glory in such brightness, and wish ’twas ever day,

That in unclouded brilliancy life’s hours might pass away.

I have thoughts that bow me to the dust in stupor-like despair,

That bind my soul with fetters to keep it always there;

That whisper I can never rise, that my spirit has no wings,

But must ever be content to lie amid earth’s blighted things.

I have gentle, holy thoughts that come with sweet and soothing power

Instilling vigor in my heart, as dew upon the flower;

And then I feel that I would give the world if I could be

From all of human frailty and earthly passion free.

I have thoughts that breathe unholy air, that bring a chilling blight

Upon each better feeling, each principle of right:

Vain, foolish, envious, wicked thoughts that fill my heart with pain;

That pour wild tumult in my breast, and fever on my brain.

I have thoughts that come like zephyrs in the spring-time of the year,

That bear sweet memories of my friends—those who are ever dear;

And some who at another time might seem but friends in name,

Are made by those same gentle thoughts a friendship true to claim.

I think me of the kindly deeds, the pleasant word or smile,

Which sometimes served in sadder hours a sorrow to beguile;

Oh, then I raise my heart in prayer for every one I know,

And ask our common God to bless and shield them from each wo;

And there is naught of sacrifice too great for me to bear,

If so I might but glad their hearts, or free their souls from care.

I have thoughts that spread deep shadows of unholy, dark distrust,

That like a fearful whirlwind lay high hopes within the dust;

That recall forgotten mem’ries to a gloomy, clouded mind,

Of broken friendships, trusts betrayed, and words and looks unkind.

Ah, then suspicion dark and drear spreads forth her chilling blight,

And sick at heart I turn away, as withers in my sight

Bright hopes of future happiness—sweet friendships held most dear.

And I seem to live ’mid shattered wrecks, in strange, unearthly fear;

And I start to hear a kindly word, and my spirit dreads a smile,

Lest the word should be deceitful, or the smile be meant in guile:

And I deem that the wide world contains no friend who loves me well,

And I long to go away from earth to where the faithful dwell.

I would not have them ever glad, those many thoughts of mine—

I would not with unclouded beams life’s sun should ever shine:

For He who sends the clouds and rain knows when they are needed best,

And I would upon his guiding care with firm reliance rest:

But I would my thoughts were ever right—were ever firm and strong,

Such thoughts as nerve the heart in might to conquer what is wrong,

I would not that my spirit breathe the taint of impure air,

But that only holy, heaven-sent thoughts should have an influence there.