On A Packet Of Letters.

"To-day" Oh! not to-day shall sound     Thy mild and gentle voice;     Nor yet "to-morrow" will it bid      My heart rejoice.     But one, one fondly treasured thing     Is left me 'mid decay,     This record, hallowed with thy thoughts      Of yesterday.     Chaste thoughts and holy, such as still     To purest hearts are given,     Breathing of Earth, yet wafting high      The soul to Heaven;     Soaring beyond the bounds of Time,     Beyond the blight of Death,     To worlds where "parting is no more,"      "Nor Life a breath."     'Tis true they whisper mournfully     Of buds too bright to bloom,     Of hopes that blossomed but to die      Around the tomb.     Still they are sweet remembrances     Of life's unclouded day     Sketches of mind, which death alone      Can wrench away;     Memorials sad of by-past hours,     Gone with the silent dead;     Pictured affections, pencilled dreams.      Forever fled!     Forever? Are they hushed indeed     To wake again no more?     Ties dearer far than Life itself      With life all o'er?     No! Faith can point to holier climes,     And bid the soul prepare     For deathless union that awaits      The faithful there.