The Londonderry Sifter

Dream of Home.
The sun's rays slant the path along,
The air is balmy as in June;
The robin sings his evening song,
And through the sky the new, gray moon
Moves calmly on, untrammeled, free,
But something whispers unto me--
"Not yet!"

The brook sings as it gently flows,
The frog croaks by the water's rim;
There in content the lily grows,
And there the fishes, darting, swim;
I hear and see the old brown mill,
But, ah! those sad words haunt me still--
"Not yet!"

In clover meadows broad and fair,
In drowsy mood the cows await
The farm-boy's call upon the air,
While, with his pail, beside the gate
Which opens down the grassy lane,
My brother breathes these words of pain --
"Not yet!"

The steepled-church, the schoolhouse near,
The wood where I have roamed at will,
The quaint, old farm-house, to me dear,
My youthful home--my manhood's still--
I see these as in days gone by
But something whispers (as I sigh)--
"Not yet!"

O Hearts, in whom there is no May!
Who yearn to hear my footfalls where
The path, so beaten, winds its way
Under old trees so grand and fair!--
Dear Hearts, who long for me to come,
I can but say I cannot go home--
"Not yet"

For longer, still, your hearts must know
A sadness free from all disguise,
Ere I can leave these scenes and go
And look into bright, loving eyes,
And clasp the hands so warm, and kiss
The lips I've pressed so oft in bliss.
"Not yet!"

Forgotten, but as sweet and strong
As when one dreamful Autumn day
I said "Good-by!" and passed along
Down the old walk, and went away,
Not thinking there would come a day
When I should have--as now--to say--
"Not yet!"

Alas, not yet! Far, far from this!
Still must I wait! All I can do
Is just to waft a long, long kiss
Bedewed with love, O Hearts! to you,
And murmur these sad words once more,
Unthought of in the days of yore--
"Not yet!"

-Geo. Newell Lovejoy in the Current.