The Argosy — page 271: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

25 4 ON THE BORDERLAND. STAY, kindly death, ere yet our solemn way Be entered on. Thou art the tardy friend I waited for through many a weary day, That thou might’st lead me to my journey’s end. Through all my loud-voiced woe thou didst not come, Nor yet when low I lay in sorrow dumb! I thought thou wouldst have been, long, long ago; And learned to know thy face and love thy name ; But thou wert far from me in all my woe: What wonder, then, that I did give thee blame P For, in the darkest hour of my soul’s sky, No latch was lifted, but thy foot passed by ! And now thou leadest me with thy cold hand, While by me sway thy garments dark as night ; Yet stay, oh friend, that I by thee may stand, And waft a farewell from this solemn height To those dear ones who long shall wait and weep Ere yet ‘‘ He giveth His beloved sleep!” Men say thou art a King, with steeds of fate Yoked to thy noiseless chariot of gloom ; And that thou leavest bare and desolate Bright human homes ; and bringest man to doom, Like broken spars thrown on a wave-lashed strand, Or scattered grain upon a storm-reaped land ! Stern, final guide, I would not call thee foe! For, in my life thou long hast had a place ; And, though thy vital breath is human woe, To me thou wearest a transfigured face : Through greater strength than thine my soul can sing Beside the beating of thy winnowing wing ! Thy smile is cold, as if all incomplete Were my poor fragment of a lowly life. How often weary were my bleeding feet ! How weak my arm at best amidst the strife ! Yet, think not, Death, the loyal miss their crown ; For, God takes up what mortals frail lay down! q & FY ¢ | | NinS | Pm ALEXANDER LAMONT. CONnNIELIOOKS see)