<h2><i><SPAN name="TO_M_L_S"></SPAN>TO M. L. S.——</i></h2>
<p class="quotc">[Mrs. Marie Louise Shew.]</p>
<p class="poem">
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning—<br/>
Of all to whom thine absence is the night—<br/>
The blotting utterly from out high heaven<br/>
The sacred sun—of all who, weeping, bless thee<br/>
Hourly for hope—for life—ah! above all,<br/>
For the resurrection of deep-buried faith<br/>
In Truth—in Virtue—in Humanity—<br/>
Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed<br/>
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen<br/>
At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!"<br/>
At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled<br/>
In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes—<br/>
Of all who owe thee most—whose gratitude<br/>
Nearest resembles worship—oh, remember<br/>
The truest—the most fervently devoted,<br/>
And think that these weak lines are written by him—<br/>
By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think<br/>
His spirit is communing with an angel's.<br/></p>
<hr class="r65" />
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