Old Letters

There's a packagc of old letters in the üttle rosewood box, Which the key tied to this locket, worn upon my heart, unlocks ; Will you go and get the package, and the letters read io me "! I have tried to do it often, but, tor toars, could not see. You have brought them - thank you, darlin - now sit down upon the bed, And lift gently to your bosom my poor throl bing, burning head; Read the blessed words distinctly, that I los not even one ; Oh, the precious hand that penned them, it last work for me has done I But if you should ever see him, when I neve more shall see, Tell„him that the sweetest solace his dear let ters were to me ; That I never ceased to love him, never doubted that he loved : That my faith in him was perfect, and remained thiough all unmoved, And, Oh ! teil him when he carne not, as he pronrised he would come, If I could not choose but sorrow, that my grief , for him was dumb ; That I nevel1 yet reproached him, ne'er a word of censure spoke; That his mem'ry must be genüe to the heart his coldness broke. Teil him through the years which followed, when no tidings from him carne, Nor his absence, nor his silence, was I ever heard to blame ; Oh, this wild desire to see him. God subdue within my breast ! For it racks me into torture, and my soul hath need of rest. Wlien I'm dead, and in niy cofEn, and th shroud about me wound, And my narroiv bed is ready, in the pleasan chnrch-yard ground, Lay the loeket and the letters both togethe on my heart, And this little ring he gare me, Dever from my finger port. Now, I'm ready - read the letters - the deai letters once again ; As I listen while you read them, I shall lose all scnse of pain; And if, when you have finished, I shouli gently fall asleep - Gently fall asleep rnd wake not - dearest sis ter, do not weep