When I, for ever out of human sight,

Shall seem beyond the wish for anything,

Oh then believe at morning and at night

My soul shall listen for thy whispering.

The work of life may so fill up the day

That not a thought of me shall venture there;

And after labor Love may charm away

What could not enter for the press of care.

But when thou'st bidden all this world good-night,

And enterest that which lies so close to mine,

Call me by name—-it is my angel's right—

And I shall hear thee, though I give no sign.

When morn undoes the high, white gates of sleep,

Pause, as thou comest forth, to speak to me:

It may seem vain, for silence will be deep,

But uttered wishes wait on prophecy.

And when some day far distant thou dost feel

That night and morrow will no longer come,

The pitying heart will let me then reveal

My presence to thee on the passage home.

CHARLOTTE F. BATES.