Aged Thirty-Three Years.

One sweet, consoling thought comes to me as I write :
Her deathless spirit, snowy-winged, is nearer us to-night
Than when it dwelt below, imprisoned by the clay,
Longing to join the yearning group that mourned its lengthened stay.

For heaven is not so far that loved ones may not find
The shadowed homes and longing hearts of those they left behind ;
They rest a little while by Eden's placid streams,
And then glide back, on noiseless wings, to soothe us in our dreams.

Not vanished from our sight, â€" no, no, not gone to stay !
Her touch â€" her smile â€" her gentle tone can never pass away;
The twilight brings again a wealth of sunny hair, â€"
A brow of White, a hand, a voice that points and whispers, 'There.'

We know that she will wait, nor seek the furthest skies,
Until there is a gathering in of all earth's broken ties ;
The eldest-born â€" the first to cross death's mystic tide,
And first to greet, with welcoming clasp, upon the other side.

Be our lives as pure, as free from stain or sin,
As the white soul that heard His call and softly floated in;
And if 'tis ours to choose what recompense be given
For every pang, we only ask to share our darling's heaven.