"Nay, mother, nay; the pictured coal is glowing,
Dully and redly on the hearthstone there;
Yon was no flame of careless idlers' throwing,
Nor rocket flashing through the startled air;
'Twas but the gleaming of the Northern Lights —
Ah, there again, they reddened Huntcliff heights.

"So, let me raise you softly on the pillow,
See, how the crimson lustre flares and dies,
Turning to red the long heave of the billow,
And the great arch of all the starless skies;
The fishers say such beauty bodes them sorrow,
Telling of storm, and wind to blow to-morrow."

"No, child, the busy wife may bait her lines,
And net and gear lie ready for the morning,
No presage in that wavering glory shines,
No doom in the rich hues the clouds adorning;
They do but say the lingering hours are past,
The gates, the golden gates, unclose at last.

"Won, the long hill so steep and drear to climb,
Done, the long task so bitter hard in learning;
The tears are shed, and garnered up by time,
The heart beats, freed from all its lonely yearning;
The bar swings back, and, flooding seas and skies,
Burst out the deathless lights of Paradise.

"See, see, by the great valves of pearl they stand,
Friends, children, husband; see glad hands outreaching!
For me, for me, the undiscovered land,
Its promise in that roseate signal teaching;
Ay, kiss me, child, the lips will soon be dumb,
That yet in earthly words can say, 'I come.'"

Again the banner of the Northern Lights
Waved broad and bright across the face of heaven;
And in the cottage on the rugged heights,
The passing radiance, by their glory given,
Showed a pale orphan weeping by the bed,
And the calm smiling of the happy dead.

Let bygones be bygones; if bygones were clouded
⁠By aught that occasioned a pang of regret,
Oh, let them in darkest oblivion be shrouded;
⁠'Tis wise and 'tis kind to forgive and forget.

Let bygones be bygones, and good be extracted
⁠From ill over which it is folly to fret;
The wisest of mortals have foolishly acted —
⁠The kindest are those who forgive and forget.

Let bygones be bygones; oh, cherish no longer
⁠The thought that the sun of affection has set;
Eclipsed for a moment, its rays will be stronger,
⁠If you, like a Christian, forgive and forget.

Let bygones be bygones; your heart will be lighter,
⁠When kindness of yours with reception has met;
The flame of your love will be purer and brighter
⁠If, Godlike, you strive to forgive and forget.

Let bygones be bygones; oh, purge out the leaven
⁠Of malice, and try an example to set
To others, who, craving the mercy of heaven,
⁠Are sadly too slow to-forgive and forget.

Let bygones be bygones; remember how deeply
⁠To heaven's forbearance we all are in debt;
They value God's infinite goodness too cheaply
⁠Who heed not the precept, "Forgive and forget."

Oh! I wish I were a tiny browny bird from out the south,
⁠Settled among the alder-holts, and twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down, and put up my tiny mouth,
⁠And sing my tiny life away in one melodious dream.

I would sing about the blossoms, and the sunshine and the sky.
⁠And the tiny wife I meant to have in such a cosy nest;
And if some one came and shot me dead, why then I could but die,
⁠With my tiny life and tiny song just ended at their best.