The Rainbow.

"What is the rainbow, mother dear,
    With many-colored light?
Have the clouds parted just to show
    The floor of heaven so bright?

"Or is it wings of angels pure
    That touch along the sky?
And do they come that we may see
    How fair is all on high?

"Or, mother, on that shining arch
    Do spirits rise above?
And on that bended bow ascend
    Where all is light and love?

"How beautiful must be that road!
    Why should we call those back,
Who travel to the better land
    On such a sunny track?

"Why did you weep when brother died?
    Did you not know that he
On that delightful path must tread,
    Ere he in heaven could be?"

"My dearest child, we cannot know,
    Or trace the spirit's flight,
For sin and sorrow draw their veil
    Across our mortal sight.

"If--as the rainbow takes its hues
    Of beauty from the sun--
We strive to live like Christ our Lord,
    The meek and holy One,--

"Then shall we dwell in Heaven's clear day,
    Which knows nor night nor moon,
For, ever, from the Father's throne
    Beams high and cloudless noon."