Annie Bell

                         I.
Once, upon a summer morning
     (Memory keeps the records well), 
Sat a lovely girl beside me — 
                                   Annie Bell.

Sixteen Junes of song and sunshine,
     Flower and breeze, her life could tell; 
All, that morning, seemed to meet in 
                                   Annie Bell.

O, her heart was large for loving! 
     Yet no evil thought might dwell 
In that temple pure and holy, 
                                   Annie Bell.

Kin she seemed to all that's fairest,
     And to all that's best as well, 
In the glory of her girlhood, 
                                   Annie Bell.

Then, as thus I sat beside her,
     Unaware, a blessing fell 
From my heart upon the maiden, 
                                   Annie Bell.

Soft as Ocean's murmured echoes
     In the convoluted shell, 
Spake I, blessing thus the gentle 
                                   Annie Bell.

                         II.
"Maiden! may the loving Father, 
     Who in mercy doth excel, 
Guide thee ever, guard thee ever, 
                                   Annie Bell.

"Free from guile and free from sorrow, 
     Free from every passion fell, 
Keep thy soul's unsullied whiteness, 
                                   Annie Bell.

"Hating wrong and scorning folly, 
     Every evil thing repel: 
So with thee shall walk the angels, 
                                   Annie Bell.

"O, companioned so divinely,
     Shall thy life, with rhythmic swell
Flow to chimes of angel-music, 
                                   Annie Bell:

"Love, with sweetest ministrations, 
     In thy home forever dwell, 
Filling it with airs of heaven, 
                                   Annie Bell:

"Till, thy earthly mission ended,
     Bliss, beyond what verse can tell, 
Be thy heritage forever,
                                   Annie Bell."

                         III.
Since that lovely summer morning
     Years have passed; and who can tell 
All the changes they have brought thee, 
                                   Annie Bell ?

Thou to me didst seem a vision
     Which a moment might dispel; 
But its glory lingers with me, 
                                   Annie Bell.

Ever, since that summer morning, 
     In my memory thou dost dwell, 
Sanctified by sweet affections, 
                                   Annie Bell.

Never, since that summer morning,
     Which thy presence, like a spell, 
Seemed to hallow, have I seen thee, 
                                   Annie Bell.

Nor hath heard mine ear the music
     Of the name I love so well, 
Save when to myself I murmur,"
                                   Annie Bell!"

But in dreams I oft behold thee,
     Lovelier than my rhyme can tell, 
Ripened to a perfect woman,
                                   Annie Bell:

"With the eyes which brimmed with laughter
     As their lashes rose and fell, 
Filled with deeper, holier meanings,
                                   Annie Bell:

And thy voice to richer music
     Wedded, such as thoughts compel 
When they seem like spirit-echoes, 
                                   Annie Bell:

Sadder — for the gift of wisdom 
     Since, as ere our parents fell, 
Still is found in sorrow's umbra
                                   Annie Bell:

But with light serene and saintly
      (In such light do angels dwell), 
Like an aureole around thee, 
                                   Annie Bell.

                         IV.
Sometimes, with a sudden anguish, 
     Hear I, in my dreams, a knell 
Tolling through the dreary chamber, 
                                   "Annie Bell!"

"She is dead ! " — the iron clangor, 
     Echoed by my thought too well, 
Still sounds on, with dreadful import 
                                   "Annie Bell!"

Icy fingers seem to clutch me;
     Mocking fiends, with purpose fell, 
Shriek, responsive to that knolling, 
                                   "Annie Bell!"

What can mean these sad monitions?
     Neither hope nor fear can tell: 
But the loving Father keeps thee, 
                                   Annie Bell.

If on earth thy footsteps linger, 
     Faith, rejoicing, says "'Tis well!"
For the loving Father keeps thee, 
                                   Annie Bell.

If thou walkest with the angels
     Through the groves of asphodel, 
Still the loving Father keeps thee, 
                                   Annie Bell.

So, in heaven, some summer morning
      (If I fight the good fight well), 
I shall meet thee, I shall greet thee, 
                                   Annie Bell.