Part 1 — AN OLD MAN'S VISIONS IN THE FLAMES.

Beside a simple hearth I sit alone To watch the plumes of smoke and fitful blaze, And here reflecting how the time has flown, I see in flames the sights of bygone days: I'm sixty-six, with hair of purest white, My brow is wrinkled in a thousand creeks, And dim is now what once was clearest sight, And hollow what were round and ruddy cheeks. But stay—a vision in the flame appears: With flowers a village churchyard path is strewn, A youth and maiden hale and young in years Are wedded 'midst the blossomings of June. Alas! it scarcely seems but yesterday— For I was that glad youth; and by my side There stood, from head to foot in white array, Her face adorned with smiles, my loving bride. The flames burn low; there comes a change of sight. I stand, as once I stood, with bated breath And anxious mind, throughout the lengthened night, To watch an awful strife 'twixt life and death. At length the morning broke—outside 'twas gay, But inside, sad; my wife had sweetly smiled, And falling back had calmly passed away, And I was left with Fan, my only child. There courses down my cheek the usual tear— I'll brush it back, and find a brighter theme; See, flames are burning up with ruddy cheer, And I can now discern a sunnier gleam; Aye, aye! and 'tis a brighter theme to think How Fan grew up and was beloved by all, How never from a duty would she shrink, Nor scruple to respond to ev'ry call. Oft would she pluck and save the fairest bloom, Or gather bunches of the rarest flow'rs, And decorate a lonely cottage room To brighten up a widow's dreary hours. Her form was seen beside the sick man's bed, To whom she read, and laboured to inspire: And sanctity was in her as she led On Sunday morn the simple village choir. But tears course down, the fire again burns low; The brighter th' sun, the darker follows shade, Sweet years flew on—then heaven why was it so?— I see the open grave where Fan was laid. * * * * * This life is sorrow-burdened: yet if bright And framed of worldly bliss without alloy, We should not see the worth of true delight, Nor strive to gain an everlasting joy!