A Poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

I sit by the fire musing,
  With sad and downcast eye,
And my laden breast gives utt’rance
  To many a weary sigh;
Hushed is each worldly feeling,
  Dimmed is each day-dream bright—
O heavy heart, can’st tell me
  Why I’m so sad to-night?

’Tis not that I mourn the freshness
  Of youth fore’er gone by—
Its life with pulse high springing,
  Its cloudless, radiant eye—
Finding bliss in every sunbeam,
  Delight in every part,
Well springs of purest pleasure
  In its high ardent heart.

Nor yet is it for those dear ones
  Who’ve passed from earth away
That I grieve—in spirit kneeling
  Above their beds of clay;
O, no! while my glance upraising
  To yon calm shining sky,
My pale lips, quivering, murmur,
  “They are happier than I!”

But, alas! my spirit mourns
  As, weary, it looks back—
Finding naught of good or holy
  On life’s past barren track—
I mourn for the countless errors
  That on mem’ry’s page crowd on,
And sorrow for lost chances
  Of good I might have done.

But, courage! I must arouse me,
  The day is not yet o’er,
And I still may make atonement
  Ere leaving life’s last shore:
One act of meek oblation,
  A tear of penance bright,
Will be counted as rare treasures
  In heaven’s loving sight.