THOSE evening bells! those evening bells! Those joyous hours are pass 'd away; And so 't will be when I am gone, - THOMAS MOORE. BROTHER AND SISTER. I CANNOT choose but think upon the time When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss At lightest thrill from the bee's swinging chime, Because the one so near the other is. He was the elder, and a little man Of forty inches, bound to show no dread, And I the girl that puppy-like now ran, Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread. I held him wise, and when he talked to me. Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the best, I thought his knowledge marked the boundary If he said, "Hush!" I tried to hold my breath; School parted us; we never found again That childish world where our two spirits mingled Like scents from varying roses that remain One sweetness, nor can evermore be singled. Yet the twin habit of that early time Lingered for long about the heart and tongue; We had been natives of one happy clime, And its dear accent to our utterance clung. |