, 1 -J I: 4- ;s,V-v i <i 
 
 / 1 ' V ' ■•, :■ ■ ■
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS.
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTUS TAYLOR 
 
 Henry S. King & Co., 
 
 65 Corjihill^ and 12 Paternoster Row, London.. 
 
 1874.
 
 ?R 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 PACK 
 
 SPRING 
 
 
 1 
 
 RACHEL 
 
 
 11 
 
 ROMANCE AND SCIENCE 
 
 
 22 
 
 SYLVAN ODE 
 
 
 28 
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE 
 
 
 37 
 
 UPWARDS 
 
 
 48 
 
 HILARION 
 
 
 56 
 
 EAST AND WEST 
 
 
 59 
 
 THE PALM TREE 
 
 
 63 
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT . 
 
 
 67 
 
 THE BEECH FOREST . 
 
 
 69 
 
 THE PINE GROVE 
 
 
 72 
 
 THE HAREBELL 
 
 
 74 
 
 KITTY 
 
 
 77 
 
 A LANDSCAPE 
 
 
 78 
 
 MARGARET . 
 
 
 80 
 
 MAY-TIME 
 
 
 83 
 
 
 , ^3 

 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 MEMORY AND HOPE . 
 
 MORNING SONG 
 
 AN EXPERIENCE 
 
 THE maid's song 
 
 THE FISHERMAN 
 
 LINES ON A PICTURE 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A HAWK . 
 
 DAMARIS .... 
 
 YEARNINGS .... 
 
 AUTUMN .... 
 
 'tis STILL, THE SKY, THE NIGHT, THE AIK IS 
 
 A LAMENT .... 
 
 WATERLOO .... 
 
 A SUMMER evening's DREAM 
 
 SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM 
 
 SHELTER .... 
 
 ON TAKING POSSESSION OF A NEW STUDY 
 
 "TOUCH ME NOT " . 
 
 THE TIRED CHILD 
 
 TO A. H. ON HER MARRIAGE TO THE BISHOP 
 
 PICTURES OF HEAVEN 
 
 IN THE HOLY MORNING LIGHT 
 
 LIKE A BRIGHT VISION IN THE AIR . 
 
 TO A. AT SIX MONTHS OLD 
 
 IN MEMORY OF S. R. P. 
 
 STILL 
 
 OF S. L. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 85 
 
 87 
 
 89 
 
 91 
 
 93 
 
 95 
 
 98 
 
 100 
 
 103 
 
 105 
 
 108 
 
 109 
 
 110 
 
 113 
 
 116 
 
 121 
 
 123 
 
 125 
 
 127 
 
 129 
 
 135 
 
 141 
 
 143 
 
 147 
 
 149
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 vn 
 
 Garden Sonnets — 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. .... . 
 
 15.5 
 
 II. .... . 
 
 156 
 
 III. ..... 
 
 157 
 
 IV. .... , 
 
 1.58 
 
 V. .... . 
 
 159 
 
 VI. THE ROSE .... 
 
 160 
 
 VII. THE LILY .... 
 
 161 
 
 VIII. ..... 
 
 162 
 
 IX. THE AVENUE 
 
 163 
 
 River Sonnets— 
 
 
 I. .... . 
 
 167 
 
 II. . . ... 
 
 168 
 
 m. . . . . . 
 
 169 
 
 IV. .... . 
 
 170 
 
 Miscellaneous Sonnets — 
 
 
 the mountain brook . 
 
 173 
 
 TO M. Y. 
 
 174 
 
 TO S. M. L. T. . 
 
 175 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF S. T. . 
 
 176 
 
 A CHILD STOOD GAZING SEAWARD 
 
 177 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A LITTLE BABE 
 
 178 
 
 ONCE BY A BROAD AND VISIONARY STREAM 
 
 179 
 
 NOW ON THE WHITE SANDS 
 
 180 
 
 ENCOURAGEMENTS 
 
 181
 
 VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Miscellaneous Sonnets — continued — 
 
 SEEKING FOR FREEDOM, . . . 182 
 
 oh! MEN of god! .... 183 
 
 THE SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE . , 184 
 
 TO THE ODOURLESS VIOLET . . . 185 
 TO THE WEST WIND . . . .186 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY ..... 187 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD (1.) . . . 188 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD (2.) . . . 189 
 
 WRITTEN DURING AN ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS . 190 
 
 TO PLINY (1.) ..... 191 
 
 TO PLINY (2. ) . . . .192 
 
 THE DIVINE PICTURE .... 193 
 
 PERFECT S0NSHIP(1.) .... 194 
 
 PERFECT SONSHIP (2. ) . . . . 195 
 
 EASTWARD . . . . .196 
 
 SUNSET ...... 197 
 
 NIGHT ...... 198 
 
 ART THOU THE DAY, THE NEW BORN DAY . 199 
 
 ABRAHAM AND LOT .... 200 
 
 BARTIMEUS ..... 201 
 
 TO MRS G. . . . . . 202 
 
 WHEN JARRED BY SOME NEW STROKE . . 203 
 
 MY MUSE, I FEAR, IS SHY AND COUNTRY-BRED . 204
 
 E K R A T A. 
 
 Page 29 line 1 Fur mooutide read noontide. 
 
 ,, 72 ., 14: For sea, read seas. 
 
 ., 150 „ 2 For old fashioned read old-fasliioued. 
 
 ,, IGl „ 8 -Fo/- heart rea J hearts. 
 
 ,, 1(j7 „ 1 delete comma after river. 
 
 ., 17(i „ 4 For belcved ;eo(/ Beloved. 
 
 ,, 187 „ 9 Fu;- low sobbed r(c(f/ low-sulLed.
 
 VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Miscellaneous Sonnets — continued- 
 seeking for freedom, 
 oh! men of god! 
 the song of the nightingale 
 to the odourless violet 
 to the west wind 
 
 TTXTTWUM ARRF.V 
 
 182 
 183 
 184 
 185 
 186 
 187 
 
 TO MRS G. . . . . . iu* 
 
 WHEN JARRED BY SOME NEW STROKE , . 203 
 
 MY MUSE, I FEAR, IS SHY AND COUNTRY-BRED . 204
 
 POEMS. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Flashing through the sapphire dome, 
 
 Borne across the eastern foam 
 
 On thy aether-cleaving wing, 
 
 Spirit of exulting Spring ! 
 
 Soon as Day has conquered Night 
 
 With the arrows of the light, 
 
 And pursued her east and west. 
 
 Lowering her raven crest, 
 
 Till at least an equal reign 
 
 Doth acknowledge his domain, 
 
 Then from Scandinavian snows, 
 
 Where the boreal ardour glows, 
 A
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Eager on the screaming blast, 
 Thou careerest Avild and fast, 
 With a tumult all around. 
 Wakening a world of sound ! 
 
 Though thy subtle might is such 
 That no eye, nor ear, nor touch 
 Hath perceived the wondrous thing, 
 I have seen thee, fairy Spring ! 
 As one who o'er the polished brass 
 Watches astral glories pass, 
 Gazing into that concave. 
 More empyreal than the sky, 
 Where ideals, wave on wave, 
 Glance beneath the poet's eye, 
 Whence reverberations clear 
 Strike the poet's inward ear, 
 I have seen thee gliding there. 
 With a thousand larks in air. 
 Like a youth of classic grace 
 With a blush upon thy face.
 
 SPRING. 
 
 And a cloud of golden locks, 
 Such as Dionysus wore 
 Bounding o'er the Theban rocks, 
 With his Msenad band of yore. 
 
 And sometimes I've seen thee float 
 Like an angel in a boat, 
 With thy wings half-spread for sails 
 Arched before the morning gales, 
 Where a narrow strait expands 
 Into broad and sunny seas, 
 Under shores of shining lands, 
 Widening by faint degrees 
 Of emerald and purple hue 
 To the farthest line of blue, 
 
 And sometimes at the weary tide 
 Of a sultry April noon, 
 I have seen thee by the side 
 Of a river making tune 
 Lazily among the reeds 
 And the broad-leaved budding weeds.
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Sitting like Harpocrates 
 
 On a lotus flower at ease, 
 
 AVitli thy finger on thy lips, 
 
 In a childish attitude, 
 
 Soon, as from a short eclipse. 
 
 To flash into a wilder mood, 
 
 Musing something new and strange, 
 
 Something which shall quickly change. 
 
 By a cunning magic art. 
 
 Earth, and sky, and face, and heart, 
 
 From the fount of endless youth. 
 
 The fabled well of deathless truth, 
 
 Fetching something which shall pass 
 
 O'er the woods and o'er the grass, 
 
 Making money-loving men 
 
 Into children once again. 
 
 Or before the morning star 
 In a golden-axled car, 
 Drawn by horses, golden-maned, 
 Golden-bitted, golden-reined,
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Leaning forward o'er the surge, 
 Hurrying on with voice and scourge 
 Every fiery foaming steed 
 To exert his utmost speed, 
 With a noisy chattering train 
 Gambolling around the wain, 
 All that dance in coral caves 
 To the music of the waves. 
 All except the Nymphs serene. 
 Daughters of the ocean queen, 
 For they love a calmer scene ; 
 All the Avhite Nereides 
 In their flowing locks enrolled. 
 With their father, prophet old, 
 Hoary patriarch of the seas, 
 And behind them play and swim 
 Dogs and monsters quaint and grim. 
 Whelps and cubs of all that breed 
 In the oozy ocean weed, 
 While among the sandy isles,
 
 SPRING. 
 
 From the tumult far and shy, 
 Green-haired Glaucus ever wails 
 [Mourning that he cannot die. 
 
 But sometimes thy rapturous hour 
 Hath an overwhelming power, 
 And a danger seems to lie 
 Lurking in thy restless eye, 
 And the world seems all too new, 
 Too capricious to be true : 
 Weary then we turn at last 
 To the quiet of the past, 
 Longing for the rich delights 
 Of the happy winter nights, 
 When we hear the ceaseless tread 
 Of the angels overhead 
 Sent to cover stains below 
 With the charity of snow, 
 And the solemn tempests play 
 World-old anthems on the trees, 
 As their branches bend and sway
 
 SPRING. 
 
 All abandoned to the breeze, 
 
 And upon the forest lyre 
 
 Utter all the strong desire, 
 
 All the anguish and despair, 
 
 Every curse and every prayer, 
 
 All the anger and disdain 
 
 They have passed on hill and plain, 
 
 All the mystic harmonies 
 
 They have gathered from the seas, 
 
 Till each tender passionate tone. 
 
 Every sigh and every moan. 
 
 In its restless fever hurled 
 
 From the great heart of the world, 
 
 Finds an echo in our own : 
 
 Then we listen without fear. 
 
 In the lamplight still and clear, 
 
 As if nestling safe and warm 
 
 In the hollow of God's hand. 
 
 While the trouble of the storm 
 
 Passes o'er the trembling land.
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Or we stir the crackling fire, 
 And while shcarj) against the pane 
 Dashes oft the gusty rain, 
 Listen what the electric wire, 
 From a thousand leagues afar 
 Tells of ravages of war, 
 From the East and from the West, 
 How the nations long for rest 
 — Long for rest but arm for strife, 
 Loving vengeance more than life. 
 
 Or we talk and interchange 
 Hopes and fancies old and strange. 
 Which can best be understood 
 Where a flame of blazing wood 
 Casts a fliclver on the walls. 
 And a restless radiance falls 
 On the earnest brow which teems 
 With the inward fire of thought, 
 Like a temple hyaline 
 Through which altar-splendours shine,
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Misty witli a crown of drecims, 
 Diamonded with tears inwrought, 
 And the love-reflecting face, 
 Eapt into angelic grace. 
 Brings God nearer to the eye 
 Than the constellated sky. 
 
 For too pure and bright art thou, 
 For our human spirits now. 
 Innocent, etherial Spring ! 
 Holy morning of the year ! 
 Emblem thou of every thing 
 Swift and fresh and glad and clear. 
 Glistening with creation's dew. 
 Witness of God's endless power, 
 Who, as in the primal hour, 
 Ever maketh all things new, 
 Turning water into wine, 
 Eaising human to divine, 
 Fitting without noise or strife 
 By an inward-working life
 
 1<^ SPRING. 
 
 Carved stone and graved gold 
 
 And gems of price and weight untold 
 
 And of every colour bright 
 
 In the harmony of light 
 
 Mingling to a chrystal white, 
 
 Ordering all things rich and fair, 
 
 KnoAvn to none but Him alone, 
 
 Till He hath completed all 
 
 For His sabbath festival. 
 
 Then into the cloudless air. 
 
 In a mountain-silence grown 
 
 Like a pine of Lebanon, 
 
 Shall the city of the King 
 
 Crowned with palace domes arise, 
 
 In the nations' wond'ring eyes. 
 
 The mystery of every Spring 
 
 To one perfect flower unfurled, 
 
 In the summer of the world.
 
 RACHEL. 1 1 
 
 EACHEL. 
 
 Five thousand feet above the Ehone, as far 
 Below the summit of the Oldenhorn, 
 A valley strewn with stones and broken rocks : 
 Loud through the midst the Grandeau pours its 
 
 flood, 
 And from sublime heights prophet-like brings down 
 The life-renewing gift which angel clouds 
 Bear from the distant seas and treasure safe 
 And stainless on the rocks. In their own sight, 
 Men are as nothing while they gaze on walls 
 Of what might seem a fabric raised with aim 
 To reach to heaven but struck with angry bolt 
 From God, long since a ruin and falling still : 
 For Avhere the height as of some giant apse 
 Towers in a curve and closes in the scene, 
 Rises at intervals a faint white cloud 
 And then the thunder of an avalanche 
 Breaks and creeps muttering o'er a hundred crags
 
 12 RACHEL. 
 
 Followed by echoes whispering up the chasms ; 
 And other sounds are heard which give that range, 
 Desolate with naked spaces rifted deep, 
 And wastes of snow, the name Diablerets, 
 For there they say pernicious spirits dwell 
 And wail in loud despair, making the caves 
 Hollowed in rock and ice reverberate 
 The hideous noise, while between them and 
 
 heaven 
 The Glaciers stern and grey gaze down and weep 
 Torrents of silent tears in long cascades. 
 
 Near where the Grandeau rushiner thro' the 
 vale 
 Receives a gleaming rivulet, there stands 
 A hut where Eachel lived, a little maid. 
 Once cheerful as the morning, fleet of foot 
 And bright of eye, from all whose features beamed 
 The frank unconscious soul of symjjathy 
 Which caught each impulse of the earth and air
 
 RACHEL. 1 3 
 
 And gcave it quick expression. With the lambs 
 And playful kids she sported and would bound 
 Up the steep rocks with sure elastic foot 
 And stand where even her father, mountaineer 
 And chamois hunter, scarce would stand. Pure 
 
 truth 
 Looked from those steady eyes and every word 
 Fell like a clear round note in perfect tune 
 Upon the listener's ear. Daily she went 
 At eve to call the browsing wanderers home 
 And o'er that mountain-vale one might have gazed 
 Long, and no sign of life discerned, and called. 
 Mocking her voice, and not a bush had stirred, 
 But when she stood and called, even as we read 
 Of the Good Shepherd's voice which all his sheep 
 Know and obey, the vale all stirred to life 
 Was busy with the answering flock ; but now 
 Her eye was dull and all her gestures slow, 
 For on her home had fallen an awful grief, 
 Her father, from whose calm companionship
 
 1 4 RACHEL, 
 
 Her life had drawn its beauty and its joy, 
 — Her fatlier, than whose name no earthly name 
 Greater she knew, had been though innocent 
 Condemned for a base crime. Now all her 
 
 strength, 
 Except the strength of her pure filial love. 
 Was ebbing daily, and her constant mind 
 Filled with strange fancies wandering o'er the 
 
 snows 
 Of the near Alps or loitering on the brooks 
 Or sometimes darkly hovering o'er deep chasms. 
 
 Once she had heard how on the Oldenhorn, 
 Her father, guiding one resolved to reach 
 The summit and compute the monstrous height, 
 Had well-nigh perished in the sacrifice 
 Of his brave life to save the stranger. Thus 
 The deed was done : the summit had been climbed 
 And the air weighed, and now in the descent 
 Where sloped a field of ice like polished glass. 
 Which ended in a sheer abyss, the stranger,
 
 RACHEL, 15 
 
 In front and hurrying too fast, could not stay 
 His fatal course, and struck, and struck again 
 Into the ice his alpenstock in vain ; 
 The slope grew steeper, and before his eyes 
 Yawned a vast nothingness, when swift as swoop 
 Of eagle's wing the mountaineer flew past, 
 And drove into the brink of the abyss 
 His stock, and stood against the stranger's rush 
 Firm, and thus gave away his life, which God 
 Took and gave back, signed Avith the cross of love. 
 This Rachel heard, and now she longed to give 
 Herself for him who seemed so like to Christ, 
 And early on this summer morn, she comes 
 Forth from the hut in which her mother spins 
 And takes her seat where leans an alder bush, 
 Nodding and throbbing to the torrent's pulse ; 
 Over her feet the careless stream flows on. 
 And careless of the stream she lets it flow, 
 And yet she loves it, and her passion — swift 
 And eager as its passionate wave — shoots down
 
 1 KACHEL. 
 
 To tlie valley with it, where it hurries on 
 By the prison walls of Aigle to the Rhone. 
 There sits her father, pining for the heights 
 And all the mountain ways he knows so well, 
 And for his wife, but most of all he longs 
 To hear his little daughter's voice, which seems 
 The voice of hope, though Avhy he scarce can say ; 
 A silent man born near the silent snows, 
 Guiltless of theft he bears the doom of theft. 
 And though he knows, he will not name the thief, 
 For there is in him that stern nobleness, 
 Which neither death nor thraldom worse than 
 
 death 
 Can so corrupt that he should violate 
 The chaste reserve which duty has enjoined. 
 And Rachel has her secrets, which she tells 
 Her friend the torrent ; now she bends her head 
 And whispers, " Torrent, listen, no one's near, 
 'Twas grandfather, not father, took the gold, 
 Father and I were there, he saw us not.
 
 RACHEL. 1 7 
 
 And father bound me not to tell, and yet 
 
 With the same breath I vowed to set him free ; 
 
 But I am ill, they say that I must die. 
 
 Oh, Torrent ! take me ! for I know he pines 
 
 For me, and if I die here, I shall go 
 
 Up there, and Avander far behind those rocks 
 
 Whence come the doleful noises which men hear. 
 
 And where the gentle angels cannot go." 
 
 The summer day was long, at last the sun 
 
 Was setting, and at Aigle near the Ehone 
 
 In the prison, where an open window looked 
 
 Towards the Grandeau, Kachel's father stood, 
 
 And to the warder trembling thus he spoke : 
 
 " Oh Warder ! long before the morning rose 
 
 I lay a-dreaming, and my Eachel seemed 
 
 To ride apace on a white mountain goat 
 
 Hither, down yon steep path which leads above 
 
 The Grandeau ; Warder ! tell me now my dream, 
 
 As Joseph told his prisoners' dreams, may be 
 
 Some good is meant," — but suddenly he ceased, 
 
 £
 
 18 RACHEL. 
 
 For near them stood, outside the prison gate, 
 A stone's throw from the torrent, where it fell 
 Taking its last leap from the mountain glen. 
 His father, then exclaimed with faltering words. 
 As of a man whose passion stems his voice, 
 " What glistens on the Grandeau in the foam 1 " 
 His father went and hardly reached to seize 
 What glistened on the Grandeau in the foam, 
 And tottered 'neath the burden, though so light, 
 Then sank, and knelt, and told his crime ; for when 
 He gazed on that white face, it overcame 
 In its dead weakness all his strength and forced 
 The secret from his lips. Then said his son 
 As he looked on them — " She has kept her word. 
 And I am free ! may God forgive through Christ 
 Thy sin and this irreparable loss, 
 As I, for my dead Eachel's sake, the wrong ! " 
 Twelve months had passed, and at his chalet's 
 door 
 Sat Rachel's father, in his arms a babe
 
 RACHEL. 1 9 
 
 Which when he reached home he found newly 
 
 born : 
 Athwart the gallery and low-reaching roof 
 The last rays of the setting sun, which seem 
 To linger with a purpose, slant and tinge 
 The rock with purple and the snow with rose, 
 The torrent's roar seems hushed, and round him 
 
 breathe 
 Music and spices of the dusky pine, 
 And bees return thick-laden to their hives 
 Long-ranged, and cows deep-dewlapped slowly 
 
 move 
 Relieved from their rich burdens o'er the lawns 
 Odorous with thyme and every mountain herb, 
 Close by, mid snatches of resounding song, 
 The merle d'eau plays and plunges in the brook 
 Which falls from pool to pool, till 'neatli a l)ridge 
 Of unstripped fir it rushes, there a trough 
 Receives and leads it all along the slope 
 Of marshy meadows to the distant mill.
 
 20 RACHEL. 
 
 Across the bridge an old and weary man, 
 Meeting the sunset, creeps with trembling feet, 
 And when he sees the cheerful group and hears 
 The voices that he loves, either from joy 
 As a lark flutters o'er its happy nest 
 And lingers in its triumph, or from dread. 
 Doubting forgiveness, as the Publican 
 Who stood afar off", he delays his steps 
 And waiting in the fadmg light stands still. 
 Then rose up Eachel's father with his babe. 
 And gave it to the old man tenderly. 
 Who took it from him with a kind of fear 
 And kissed it softly, then looked up and said : 
 " Now know I truly that there is a Christ 
 In every man, most certain to be born 
 Sooner or later. These twelve months have been 
 To me innumerable centuries. 
 And I forget my former self which seems 
 As far from me as the east is from the west, 
 For so far hath He put it, who brings forth
 
 RACHEL. 21 
 
 From death life, and from thraldom liberty." 
 
 Thus spake he with a countenance as bright 
 
 As an angel's. Then the sun set, but there shone 
 
 Still on him something Avhiter than the day, 
 
 — The perfect calmness of a soul forgiven 
 
 By God and man, whom Love had made its own 
 
 In his son's silence and in KacheFs death : 
 
 And there close by, beneath the alder bush 
 
 Nodding and throbbing to the torrent's pulse. 
 
 After not many days, the old man died, 
 
 And his son buried him in Rachel's grave.
 
 22 ROMANCE AND SCIENCE. 
 
 EOMANCE AND SCIENCE. 
 
 At early dawn I saw her pass, 
 One star was in the reddening east, 
 She moved like music o'er the crrass. 
 The herald of her monarch-priest. 
 
 She had been weeping all the night, 
 And scarcely yet her tears were dried, 
 But now before the joy of light 
 She floated onward like a bride. 
 
 And when the might of orient dawn 
 Spread broader crimson o'er the hills. 
 As from the fruitful darkness drawn 
 The fiery wine a goblet fills, 
 
 From some deep fount below the world 
 There flowed into her form and face 
 Force as of niiglity wings unfurled 
 And fulness of expressive grace.
 
 ROMANCE AND SCIENCE. 23 
 
 In growtli divine she seemed to rise, 
 'Mid ghosts of dim material forms, 
 The light of stars was in her eyes, 
 And in her hair the wind of storms 
 
 Now raged the battle of the morn 
 And rose in wrath the King of day, 
 Strangling his foes in giant scorn 
 And touched her with his earliest ray : 
 
 And then she sang as if released 
 From some intolerable bond, 
 Of the sky's brightness, and the east 
 And of the boundless space beyond : 
 
 And thrilled that conscious inward sense 
 Which makes all living creatures one, 
 And questioned every why and whence, 
 And reasoned how the worlds begun :
 
 24 EOMANCE AND SCIENX'E. 
 
 A sea of song, which tided o'er 
 
 The lines where fiirthest wanderers stray, 
 
 And smote each solitary shore 
 
 And islands where the children play. 
 
 All realms of feeling and of thoug"ht, 
 Each range rose-lit by Fancy's fire, 
 Edens that hlooni for souls untaught 
 And distances of lone desire : 
 
 And as she lieavenAvard turned and took 
 Life from the brightness of his course, 
 The arrowy beam no eye can brook 
 Transfixed her vision with its force ; 
 
 His coronetted likeness burned 
 From all that met her loitering gaze, 
 And human history returned 
 The imaged likeness of his rays,
 
 ROMANCE AND SCIENCE. 
 
 And answering his appealing eye 
 Exlialed its mists of hopes and fears, 
 And traced upon the boundless sky 
 Its tragedies of love and tears : 
 
 The darkness of a birth obscure, 
 The twilight star of loyal truth, 
 The dawn of virgin passion pure, 
 And morning of chivalrous youth ; 
 
 The noon of manhood's hero power. 
 When self is lost in noblest aims, 
 The havoc of the last red hour, 
 And dread catastrophe of flames. 
 
 And with his rays she span the beams 
 Of the cold moon and every light 
 That sparkles in the mine and streams 
 Across the hyperborean night.
 
 26 ROMANCE AND SCIENCE. 
 
 And from sea-caves and foam, and sought 
 Gleams from the firefly and the worm 
 And from clear waterfalls, and caught 
 A\'hite threads of lightning from the storm ; 
 
 And glooms from every glen and grove 
 She gathered, as she roamed along 
 The ways of human life, and wove 
 Through all her quaint elaborate song. 
 
 She sang, and on the shell-strewn shore 
 Of a far lake I saw her stand, 
 She set her sail and wafted o'er 
 The water to a distant land : 
 
 And as the breezes blew behind 
 Her boat and moved her o'er the mere, 
 She sang, and stirred the mighty mind 
 Which slept in some forgotten sphere ;
 
 ROMANCE AND SCIENCE. 2 1 
 
 He woke and listened to her voice, 
 Till all that, while he lay in trance, 
 Had made men tremble or rejoice 
 In that old music of Komance, 
 
 Inspired the prophet in his soul 
 To know the meaning of her dreams, 
 And piece the fragments of the whole. 
 And see the truth thro' all that seems : 
 
 And, scorning prejudice and pain. 
 To watch and listen, till the clue 
 Is caught of the world's tangled skein 
 And all its secrets laboured through, 
 
 Till despair's last stronghold is won, 
 And every peak of mystery trod, 
 Till Avill is power, and many, one — 
 One— on this side, on that side — God.
 
 28 SYLVAN ODE. 
 
 SYLVAN ODE. 
 
 Lend me your voice for but one drowsy hour, 
 Fair Poplars ! ye that break the full-breathed 
 
 wind 
 Into a million-rippled quivering song, 
 That I may rove this untrod slope along, 
 And to my call responsive murmurs find, 
 Kesponsive murmurs in that rapturous tongue 
 Whose accents to the winds and woods belong 
 And tlirill the springs of every mystic power : 
 But if ye be too shy of human sense. 
 And ask too careless innocence, 
 For me to claim so exquisite a dower, 
 Then hush your happy music, cease awhile 
 To lead the mingled choir of numerous trees. 
 That I may question and perchance beguile 
 Some other lonelier power and steal or seize 
 By delicate device his subtle style. 
 
 Or lend me thy sweet voice, thou virgin brook !
 
 SYLVAN ODE. -'J 
 
 While thou dost tarry in the moontide beam 
 
 And flowing gently watch the wayward gleam 
 
 \Miich plays over thy variable Avave 
 
 Strike undulations on the hollowed rock 
 
 And with fantastic waverings mock 
 
 The heaving of thy stream ; 
 
 Lend me thy voice, that I may hither call, 
 
 Hither, where their bright limbs they use to lave, 
 
 The forest nymphs, whether they far have strayed 
 
 With Aphrodite through the laurel glade, 
 
 Or last night, in the swift tumultuous train 
 
 Of Artemis, across some grassy plain. 
 
 Followed the bounding stag, or, as they wont, 
 
 In the close thicket of some mossy gloom. 
 
 Or in the leafy covert of some cave, 
 
 Some cave latticed with wandering bryony. 
 
 Are wooed by the all-conquering Argiphont, 
 
 Or some Silenus crowned with heather bloom. 
 
 For on the shady top of yonder mount, 
 Towers o'er all the grove that mighty tree,
 
 30 SYLVAN ODE. 
 
 The cedar of the northern sea, 
 
 On which I daily gaze with pride and fear ; 
 
 For well I know I ne'er have seen its peer, 
 
 Not on the margin of an Alpine fount, 
 
 Nor 'mid the granite of a stormy wild, 
 
 Nor on the Iwrder of a mountain mere ; 
 
 Stained with the sunset, all its branches burn 
 
 As towards the fiery west they yearn, 
 
 And I have heard them sigh like ocean Avaves 
 
 When, far along some sandy shore, 
 
 They answer to the sullen roar 
 
 Of the lost wanderers in the distant caves. 
 
 Some forceful will, some passionate life is there, 
 Some spirit bound within that rugged bark 
 Yearns to burst through the inviolable dark 
 And longs for light as for its mother's face. 
 Some ancient dread, some mystery of despair. 
 Feeds the stern vigour of those mighty boughs, 
 And I would fain arouse 
 Some sylvan power to grant me secret grace.
 
 SYLVAN ODE. 31 
 
 And whisper in my opened ear 
 
 That which I long, yet almost dread, to hear. 
 
 Why should not love unlock the mystic spring *? 
 For I am one no harmless creature dreads : 
 Once fairy Psyche came and kissed my brow, 
 And fanned me with her velvet-purj)le wing, 
 As o'er some clustering vine-leaves, fit to cling 
 Around the thyrsus of a festal king, 
 I watched Aurora twine her golden threads ; 
 And as 1 sit and love the flowers and skies 
 The redbreast looks at me with trustful eyes 
 And no bright blossom trembles as I pass 
 With heedful steps across the dewy grass. 
 
 Is it some mighty life that ranged untamed, 
 Companion of the winged serpents dire, 
 Till chaos all the lawless region claimed 
 And cast them down to feed the central fire 
 Or locked them into one vast stony gloom % 
 Or is it some great conqueror of the dead 
 Whose sceptre o'er a boundless empire flamed,
 
 32 SYLVAN ODE. 
 
 Wearing away his solitary doom 1 
 
 Or is it some young vigour nursed and bred 
 
 For human birth in ages yet to come, 
 
 Some giant-hearted giant-handed king, 
 
 Who under one control shall bring 
 
 The peoples of a continent yet to be, 
 
 \^niich shall arise out of the foaming sea 1 
 
 Or is it the elaborate signature 
 
 Of aims fulfilled or broken, weal or doom, 
 
 Of a strange sphere which yet finds room 
 
 Here or beneath and only can put forth 
 
 For human eyes such tokens to endure 
 
 Unspelt till ages unborn shall complete 
 
 The electric circle, and each sphere be meet 
 
 For mutual knowledge, and beyond its marge 
 
 Shall overflow, and the rapt eye shall greet, 
 
 In forms before not understood. 
 
 Heraldic histories of pregnant mood, 
 
 Till the long past be present and enlarge 
 
 With confluent stream the world's advancing flood.
 
 SYLVAN ODE. 33 
 
 Or was it the divine Mnemosyne 
 That drew the life from out some noble deed, 
 And with an unknown subtle force 
 Breathed it within a vigorous seed, 
 And caused it thus to stand and be 
 The monument and ever seminal source 
 Of that which else would die and be forgot. 
 As is the silent lot 
 
 Of many a high and passionate endeavour, 
 Sealed to its youngest first reality. 
 Which fades to a blank nought, 
 And is not even a thought, 
 Because no Clio with her busy reed 
 Has traced it on her roll to live for ever 1 
 
 For once, while walking in a desert place, 
 Under the blue of an October day, 
 Mourning and wondering as the spray 
 
 Of dying leaves and blossoms fell around 
 
 And coloured all the ground 
 
 When the wind shook the bowered space, 
 
 c
 
 34 SYLVAN ODE. 
 
 Fell on me then a joy intense 
 Anfl opened all my inward listening sense 
 To hear what in his wild ctherial way 
 The kind oracular Hermes had to say. 
 
 He ta,ught me hoAv each primal plant and flower 
 Was born by a divine behest 
 To germinate and grow to be 
 The endless memory 
 Of some great victory of chaste youth 
 Or manly love or virgin trutli, 
 And so shall be a never-failing power, 
 Stronger than chiselled stone or name, 
 A ceaseless fire of genial flame 
 To wake the virtue in the unconscious breast. 
 
 Thus the love-born, red-petalled rose 
 Or lily that in unstained whiteness blows, 
 The child of stern heroic chastities, 
 Shall touch the eye within the eye that sees 
 The eternal meaning and then guides the will, 
 The centre of the soul.
 
 SYLVAN ODE. 35 
 
 By desert paths and o'er a painful course, 
 Till the track leads over the naked hill 
 On to the end where the grey ocean line 
 Sleeps in unbroken calm and the waves pine 
 No more and cease their sad laborious roll. 
 Alas ! the heedless murmur of the wood ! 
 Alas ! the hurry of the wilful stream 
 Shattering its reckless waters on the rocks ! 
 The wind is waking from its drowsy mood 
 And lifts the gloomy forest's haughty locks 
 As if to Avake it from a lonely dream 
 And rudely gaze its beauty dark and proud ! 
 Me they despise or mayhap cannot hear ! 
 The world is growing old ! Great Pan is dead ! 
 And all the gods and all the ghosts are fled ! 
 So flees the night at sundawn, let them flee ! 
 Angels of truth have stirred the midnight air 
 With sounds more glorious than the seven-tongued 
 
 reed, 
 No lonely smiles are ours, no lonely tears.
 
 SC SYLVAN ODE. 
 
 And earth and heaven groan in our despair, 
 And travail with ns in our weary need, 
 As jxist us flow the irrevohible years. 
 
 Therefore I scorn to check my eager strain, 
 Or chide my fancy for an idle dream ; 
 Nor will I cease to hear in rippling stream. 
 And winds that wail along the wooded plain 
 Or whispering o'er the desolate upland flee, 
 And in each solemn-waving tree, 
 A mystery divine of life and heart. 
 Oh ! world of God ! I know not what thou art, 
 Nor what great harmony some heavenly day 
 Shall wake and thrill in every mutual part, 
 From all to one, through every fine degree, 
 "With utterance full and conscious life intense. 
 Answering the clear touch of my purer sense 
 As throbs the shore beneath the breathing sea.
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 37 
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 Would that the air were bleaker on this shore ! 
 
 It breathes too gently, for my heart is sick 
 
 With forced society of human ills 
 
 Too strong for good men's love, in crowded streets 
 
 Where peace and hope are strangers. I have been 
 
 Till now as in a dream, a happy dream. 
 
 The morn is come, the wild and dreary morn. 
 
 And that soft vision of a home of joy. 
 
 Crowded with cheerful faces, young and old. 
 
 Beneath a slowly changing sky from dark 
 
 To light, from light to dark, but always calm. 
 
 Is gone : I am awake ! And as a man 
 
 Who roves exulting underneath the dome 
 
 Of some vast temple, pierced with distant aisles 
 
 And thronged with echoes, bounds with careless 
 
 step 
 Adown the marble stairs, where giant glooms 
 Wave their broad wings, or upward gazing stands.
 
 3S THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 Where the vault hangs above him near the stars, 
 Till from the obscure depth rises, like the moan 
 Of Avind-urged seas, one many-voiced complaint 
 From wailing multitudes, and all his heart 
 Answers and faints, struck through with human 
 
 woes; 
 So have I revelled in the wondrous space 
 Of this most glorious temple, earth and sky, 
 And drunk with passionate soul its harnaonies. 
 But in my troubled ear, alas ! henceforth 
 The miserere thrills from countless tongues, 
 And in my deepest soul is born a sense 
 Unknown before, a tragical desire 
 To plunge into the battle of the world. 
 And live and die in conflict with man's woe : 
 Oh ! fruitless wish ! for every life cast there, 
 Seems vainly lost in that tumultuous sea, 
 As when a pebble 1)y a child is flung 
 Against the hurry of the rising tide ; 
 Yet if in vain, how can that voice be true
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 39 
 
 Which sounds eternally from heaven, and fills 
 
 All haunts of men, all far-off solitudes, 
 
 And thrills that inner heart within the heart 
 
 Which beats in secret sympathy with God, 
 
 To die for others is the highest life. 
 
 To live for self is the most shameful death ? 
 
 Ye mountains, whose stern limbs are thinly 
 clothed 
 With gorse and purple heather, rising steep 
 Above the dusky haunts of gentle streams ! 
 Ye gentle streams that steal in noiseless fear 
 Beneath that awful shade, or through the gloom 
 Make pauseless haste till o'er some precipice, 
 Ye flash into the cheerful light ! Thou sea, 
 Spread in the calm like the thin delicate haze. 
 Which the young Autumn timidly o'er glades 
 Among the woodland slopes is wont to fling ! 
 And thou mysterious all-o'er-arching sky. 
 Whose language none can read, now coloured deep 
 With amethyst and ruby, thy warm air
 
 40 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 Seeming more solid than the waveless sea, 
 
 Save where those tints of pink and orange melt 
 
 Into the cold abyss of eastern blue ! 
 
 Ye mountains sky and ocean ! ye shoiild teach 
 
 My reverent listening ear, perhaps more quick 
 
 From converse with man's sorrow now to pierce 
 
 Your parables and learn how best to love. 
 
 For ye are preachers of the infinite Word, 
 
 And that calm patient strength which seems your 
 
 soul 
 Flows from that secret source which overflows 
 Eternally and rules and quickens all. 
 
 In Him, by whom all things were made, was 
 life, 
 And the life in Him was the light of men. 
 Oh ! Thou whose love has coloured every rose 
 And built the hills and spread the shining seas 
 And sent the rivers rolling o'er the world. 
 Thy works are but the various vails and forms 
 Of spiritual truth most fit for man,
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 41 
 
 And he who will be lowly like a child 
 Shall leani to see all beauty heavenly wise 
 And find it a most sweet and noble work, 
 Far nobler than the glory of a king, 
 To be a servant and interpreter 
 A minister and prophet of Thy world ! 
 For it is better to be slow and mean, 
 One of God's quiet workmen in His work 
 Of gradual conquest over sin and woe, 
 Than fashion for one's self some lofty pain, 
 Some brilliant suffering to blaze out and die ! 
 The One all-wise is working and 'tis wise 
 To love and work w4th Him in perfect trust 
 That, as the morning wrestles with a bud, 
 Urging its shy reluctance with a force 
 As shy until, we know not when, the folds 
 Unbind their close embrace and all the flower 
 Opens its glories to the conquering sun, 
 So love shall quicken the deep life of good 
 Which lies beneath all evil, and shall warm
 
 42 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 At length the cold heart of this froward world. 
 Love can lay strong foundations painfully 
 Whereon the famous shall uprear high towers: 
 Love can sing sweetly like the nightingale 
 No matter whether it be heard or no : 
 Love can breathe perfume like the violet 
 Amid thick leaves in forest wildernesses : 
 Love can waft gently, like the wind of spring 
 That froths the crisp waves eastward, singing low 
 Among the reddening boughs, and whispers round 
 The mossy cottage eaves in April dawn 
 Wooing the children, in their dreamful sleep, 
 To stray down primrose lanes, and watch the bee 
 Suck honey dews, and soothing that bright eye 
 That aches with visions of an early grave 
 Till hope revives and at her cheering smile 
 Another round of seasons seems to roll. 
 The hedge may whitens, and the hay fiills thick 
 Over the summer scythe, and when the mist 
 Of golden autumn deepens in her dream,
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 43 
 
 Then far into the distance seems to die 
 The visionary wind and o'er her brain 
 Cool slumber steals. 
 
 Thus love that needs no thanks 
 Or answering kindness, nor desires reward, 
 Works her benignant wonders unobserved, 
 And turns unnoticed the excited stream 
 Of narroAv care into a Avider course 
 And easier channel : nor can height or depth 
 Or breadth discourage Love, which overleaps 
 Or searches bottomless abysms, or soars. 
 And overpowers whatever force would stem 
 
 His rightful conquest. 
 
 Even as the moon 
 
 Rises above the curves of envious hills, 
 Between jet pines and hoary clefts of rock 
 Streaks all the lawny glades with silver film, 
 Floods with white glory night and all her clouds, 
 And paves the impatient sea with glistening pearl. 
 So Love subdues with noiseless gradual course.
 
 44 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 From slow beginning to a perfect end, 
 And turns the darkness and disquietude 
 Of adverse circumstance to means of joy. 
 
 Once from God's central glory Love came down 
 With songs of triumph in the night to conquer : 
 And shepherds gathered round a helpless babe 
 Lying asleep, clasped to the anxious breast 
 Of a wan girl last eve arrived foot-sore 
 From rustic Nazareth far bej^ond the hills : 
 
 And on the ground, within a pillared court, 
 Among long-bearded sages, sat a boy, 
 As ignorant and athirst for whatsoe'er 
 They deigned to tell, and one most aged and kind 
 Laid on his locks a withered hand and urged 
 Free question, but the tender voice enquired 
 Meaning of dread predictions of a man 
 Of sorrows by whose stripes was healing ; all 
 Gazed mute until the mother came and called 
 And at her call he left them wondering there : 
 
 And with a pale weak man a woman talked,
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 45 
 
 Grudging him uater, as at burning noon 
 
 Beside a Avell he sat, against a pahii 
 
 Leaning his head which drooped, but when he 
 
 raised 
 His eyes and spake, she blushed and faltered, then 
 Ashamed stood weeping unaccustomed tears : 
 
 And in a desolate place where by a cave 
 Shaded with cypress, tangled grass and weeds, 
 Crushed four days since, were venturing now 
 
 again 
 Their flowers, walked one with brimming eyes 
 
 between 
 Two mourners, stepping noiselessly, as worn 
 By useless grief and seeking to console 
 Silent despair wdth silence, till his eyes 
 Flashed sudden lightning and a few slow wurds 
 Pealed from his lips, and the awakened dead 
 Wondering and listening groped into the light : 
 
 And on a bleak rock drooped as in a swoon 
 Beyond the moonlight, in a frowning shade.
 
 40 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 One who had nearly hjst all hope, alone, 
 And would have died of loneliness and grief 
 Had not a brightness touched him from the sky : 
 
 And on a rough cross with red mangled brow 
 ITplifted, a bare form, moist with death dews, 
 Against the uncertain clouds next morn hung 
 
 slack, 
 And a thick Ijlackness hushed the gibing crowd, 
 And a voice pierced the blackness, a low wail 
 As of one utterly forsaken, falling 
 Down everlasting night empty of God ! 
 And all were lost had not the trembling lips 
 Parted again with eager cries of " Father" ! 
 
 And in a cold bare chamber newly hewn 
 In the white rock, a rigid corpse lay, bound 
 AVith grave-clothes hand and foot ; one silence 
 
 ruled 
 The stern monotonous hours, no shade, no change, 
 The light, the day, tlic air, all ghostless, dead, 
 Yet death itself seemed dead, a suicide !
 
 THE LABOUR OF LOVE. 47 
 
 And hope watched peaceful for the third day's 
 dawn. 
 And thus Love conquered, rich in poverty, 
 In weakness strong, and strongest in the grave, 
 Turning back nature's wheels with steady hand 
 Or guiding skilful through unwonted ways, 
 Filling from secret urn the yawning void. 
 Bowing the head to bear aloft the world, 
 Drowning with still small whisper every shout 
 Of angry war and calling back the deep 
 Against the urging tides of death and hell.
 
 •i'S UPWARDS. 
 
 UPWARDS. 
 
 God sent an angel to awaken Spiring : 
 
 And on a ray shot from the morning star 
 
 He flew, where, light as snow fresh from the 
 
 clouds, 
 In a fair meadow falling to the south. 
 On drifted leaves of withered beech she lay 
 Under a holly sparkling in the dawn. 
 Her face was resting on one arm sunk deep 
 Into the plumage of a folded wing, 
 And o'er her cheek and brow flickered the liijht 
 In countless circles as the happy south 
 Breathed through the holly. Soft at first and low, 
 Then swelling to a louder strain, he sang 
 In concert with the undulating wind. 
 Which like the sea beneath a ship full-sailed 
 Bore on its variable tide the song. 
 And thus he sang as the dawn brightened, 
 
 " Wake,
 
 UPWARDS. 49 
 
 Fair Spring ! Fear not, the goodliest dreams are 
 
 true 
 Which globe themselves, world after world, and 
 
 float 
 
 Through the vast regions of thy prescient sleep : 
 
 Awake, and pour into the vacant sky 
 
 A flood of sapphire ! chisel out the clouds 
 
 Into the fretted galleries and domes 
 
 The radiant pyramids and crested towers 
 
 Thou sawest in that far glory whither fled 
 
 Thy trembling beauty from the summer's glow. 
 
 Fair artist ! wake ! and carve the rugged earth 
 
 Into some likeness of that florid sphere ; 
 
 Along the hills and down the vallies breathe 
 
 In dusky places violets, and drop 
 
 Kisses of primroses among the moss, 
 
 Unbind the rivulets, sprinkle the dews 
 
 And call the treble bugles of the east 
 
 To shiver palsied Winter's spell, and blow 
 
 A prelude to the melody of rain !" 
 
 D
 
 50 UPWARDS. 
 
 Then, as the morning flushes mountain snow, 
 A tender crimson kindled in her cheek. 
 And through her limbs a wave of motion flowed, 
 And her lips parted with a sigh, and wide 
 Opening her eyes so bright no human gaze 
 Could fasten on them, in a weary mood, 
 As waking vet, she raised her head and shook 
 Long hair in chestnut waves and surf of gold 
 Over her bosom, and then musingly, 
 As in a half-bewilderment, she cast 
 Her eyes upon the ground, then leaping stood 
 And laughed with joy and spreading wide her 
 
 mngs 
 Eose lighter than the air and o'er the woods 
 Passed slowly out of sight. 
 
 Where first she gazed 
 Ye felt the vital impulse, earliest flowers ! 
 As then within the torpid earth ye lay : 
 And for your prosperous birth the sun uprose 
 Each morn and set each eve nearer the north.
 
 UPWARDS. ' 51 
 
 And the moon travelled in her wavy path, 
 The' sometimes unseen, keeping watch, and stars 
 By their clear steady gaze checked the evil rage 
 Of those dark spirits that grope and seek to smite 
 With sudden strokes of blasting : for your weal. 
 The influence unexpressed save in the light 
 Of tempest wrought with subtle force to draw 
 From the gross mass that finer quality, 
 And mingle at the moment in due weight 
 And strict proportion those pure aliments 
 Which feed your proper life. Then, as all things 
 In this bright world seek to shew forth themselves 
 And live and die to God, ye glowed and rose 
 And opening out your blossoms frank and broad 
 Sunward ye gazed, and grew sunlike with rays 
 Of spotless white spread from a fount of gold. 
 Oh ! crowns of glory ! fair result of life ! 
 Ye know not sorrow for ye know not love, 
 But yearning ever upward, by that law 
 Which lifts and ripens and transfigures all,
 
 52 UPWARDS. 
 
 Ye weave your w(!dding robes and upward rise 
 Filled to o'erflowiiig from the source of light, 
 — Your highest heaven to contemplate the highest ! 
 Till, fixed at last in rapture, ye reveal 
 The glory of your Maker in your own ! 
 
 In a fair meadow falling to the south, 
 Lingering, I saw the busy crowd depart, 
 Which from the earliest morn to latest eve 
 Had reaped with priestly steel the sacrifice 
 The liberal earth had offered to the sky. 
 With even steji the mowers silently 
 Pacing had strewn the innocent flowers and grass 
 In fragrant ranks upon the altar field 
 All through the long June day, till now the mist 
 Rose stealthily, and hid the prostrate dead 
 From the prying stars in one long level shroud. 
 And as I paced the meadow, looking west 
 To feed my eyes with sunset, for the sword 
 That keeps the garden of the tree of life
 
 UPWARDS. 53 
 
 Had dropped and through the wide unguarded 
 
 gates 
 I saw the glades of Eden, slowly passed 
 Between me and the evening, clothed in white, 
 A pensive angel o'er the new-mown hay : 
 And on one hand she held a mossy nest 
 And o'er it arched the other soothingly. 
 Then down an avenue of whispering pines 
 She flashed from gloom to gloom, till in a space 
 Open to the sky she stood and raised her hand : 
 " Praise God," said she, " poor lark ! tho' for thy 
 
 song 
 Of widowed resignation here no sky 
 Of morning waits thee, hearts that yearn towards 
 
 heaven 
 In love by sorrow purified like thine. 
 Will ever make themselves a fitting place;" 
 " Praise God," said she, " poor lark ! " and he re- 
 leased 
 Shook his dark winirs and fluttered for a time
 
 54 UPWARDS. 
 
 Over his nest, then slowly rose and sang ; 
 And, as he rose and sang, the S2)ace around 
 Grew rife with visionary hues and lines 
 Of clustered columns in perspective vast 
 And far, and as he rose and sang they rose 
 And met in perfect arches, and the rays 
 Of evening quivered down the lessening aisles 
 That echoed every note, and still he rose 
 And sang, and into wondrous harmony. 
 Answering in subtle measure to his strain. 
 Music in marble, rose the holy place, 
 Till as the song returned upon itself 
 And wove the complications into one 
 Then passed away into an infinite joy 
 Unutterable, an etherial dome 
 More fit for awful rapture than for sound. 
 Whitening the zenith, for an instant glowed 
 Then vanished with the song, and to the night 
 Left me and weeping silence there alone. 
 Then musing in myself, I understood
 
 UPWARDS. 55 
 
 How all things, even the meanest plant or bird, 
 
 Thirsting for higher life, seek after God — 
 
 And seeking after Him grow beautiful ; 
 
 How that within makes that without its own 
 
 To manifest itself and like a King 
 
 Freely selects the best — the fittest form 
 
 In which to shew its character and life : 
 
 How sorrow — minister of Love — leads on 
 
 The noble suffering spirit through the dark 
 
 Into a clearer and a holier light 
 
 Nearer to God, and so turns loss and pain 
 
 Into a rapture which no earthly thing — 
 
 No temple voice or music can express : 
 
 And in the blessed Word which was made Life, 
 
 The Word of God — highest and heavenliest 
 
 Expression of His glory and His will — 
 
 I found transcendent truth beyond my dreams ; 
 
 How Jesus weeping teaches Martha, lost 
 
 In ignorant grief, to cast her love and faith 
 
 On Him, the Resurrection and the Life.
 
 56 IIILARION. 
 
 HILARION. 
 
 HiLARiON lived in Plato's cave, and saw, 
 
 Passing in shadow, now this way, now that, 
 
 Men's forms projected on the mystic rock 
 
 By the great light in which ideals move : 
 
 Sometimes stalked by a crowned gigantic shade, 
 
 Erect and lordly, followed by a train 
 
 With standards, all alike, monotonous. 
 
 Stepping as if to music, and anon — 
 
 A form with trailing garments, broad and proud ; 
 
 Then a long interval, as if men feared 
 
 To encroach ; and then a hasty throng, some mean 
 
 And stunted, and some crouching with stooped 
 
 heads. 
 One day the great light strangely glowed, and 
 
 there 
 On the Avhite space remained a little while
 
 HILARION. 57 
 
 A form in distinct outline, from the brow 
 Spines at all angles started, it was bent, 
 Not in subservience but in perfect grace 
 Of pity ; the lips moved, their delicate curves 
 Passed swiftly from command to sympathy, 
 From sympathy to command, and round the form 
 A throng of children drooped, and female shapes 
 Wringing their hands : then suddenly a thrill 
 Shot thro' Hilarion and he froze and trembled 
 And broke the spell ; he turned and sought the 
 
 day, 
 There stood the arch-ideal realized 
 Of noblest Good among the weeping crowd. 
 For one transcendent instant, and he heard 
 His name — Hilarion ! — and then dazed and deaf. 
 By the unaccustomed sunshine and the sounds 
 Of real life, he blindly wandered on 
 And still, where'er he wandered, singly sought 
 If once more on that archetype supreme 
 His eyes might rest, and he might handle it,
 
 58 HILARION. 
 
 And hear the voice. Through many years lie 
 
 sought, 
 And knowing nothing but that he had seen 
 Suffering Perfection soothing sorrow, turned 
 Ever toward the sorrowful, and where 
 A child wept, or there stood a lonely man 
 Forlorn, he went and, ever silent, took 
 The drooping hand and pressed it : thus one day 
 He heard a voice of stifled low lament 
 And by the noise led onward, joined a crowd, 
 And there a little maid was being bound 
 To a black torturous engine, she, in tears 
 But patient, raised her streaming eyes and gazed 
 Skyward, Hilarion went and stood speechless 
 And took her hand and looked with her skyward. 
 And, answering nothing to the Judge, was doomed 
 To death with her, and found what he had sought.
 
 59 
 
 EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Der Orient geht aus vom Objektiven, GOttlichen, der 
 Occident vom Endlichen : aber beide suchen dasselbe, die 
 Einheit des Gottlichen und Menschlichen. — Dorner. 
 
 With Zoroaster on a height sublime, 
 
 Fit for an eagle's eyrie, sloping east. 
 
 That ruled a vast interminable plain 
 
 Sprinkled with cities as Avith dust of gold, 
 
 T stood, and watched the divine sky broadening 
 
 Filling and deepening with the soul of dawn. 
 
 Above the purple convex presently. 
 
 Unseen seraphic heralds thrust aloft 
 
 Trumpets of fire Avith blasts of golden beams ; 
 
 Then, withering the lesser light of stars, 
 
 A croAvn appeared that pierced the chrystal space 
 
 With dazzling spines, and then a countenance 
 
 Awful with perfect calm and perfect power 
 
 Slowly uprose and looked us in the face. 
 
 Then Zoroaster kissed his hand and spake :
 
 60 EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Oh God ! " said he, " Oh God ! honour and 
 praise 
 And universal majesty be Thine : 
 Thy light is hidden under all that shines : 
 Before Thee flies all evil, and all good 
 Thou gatherest and sheddest from Thy face 
 On all the world below thee. Thou art good. 
 Thou breathest God into the soul of man." 
 
 I stood with Csesar in the Cai)itol 
 Upon the hundredth stair : the gilded walls. 
 Embossed with trophies of a conquered world, 
 Shone in the sunset, for 'twas now the eve 
 Of the fourth triumph : from the crimson west 
 A glory flashed upon the globe and bulk 
 Erect of the bronze image, large inscribed, 
 CiESAR THE Demigod. The conqueror gazed 
 Into the gorgeous sunset like his own 
 More splendid setting. " Now no more a man," 
 Said one who loved him, " thou hast won a crown
 
 EAST AND WEST. 61 
 
 Among the gods : to struggle up the steep, 
 
 Daring all dangers, crushing every power 
 
 That stemmed thee, by the dint of iron will : 
 
 This is true glory : this the highest life : 
 
 To spurn the earth and claim a throne in heaven." 
 
 I stood with one drooping and faint with grief, 
 In a strange darkness, on Mount Calvary ; 
 And there at Him who hung upon the cross 
 We gazed intent, until all other forms 
 Seemed as mere ghosts that flitted in the mist ; 
 And from his countenance, pale and dropped with 
 
 blood. 
 Flowed spiritual light, clearer than dawn, 
 Tenderer than sunset, stronger than the noon : 
 And he who drooped beside me whispered low ; 
 " Here heaven and earth meet, Truth and Mercy 
 
 here 
 Embrace, and Righteousness and Peace have 
 
 kissed.
 
 G2 EAST AND WEST. 
 
 As from a throne, the perfect conqueror 
 Draws from his cross the world of sinful mm 
 Into his heart, not tramples under foot. 
 Opening his hands, he fills with endless good 
 All creatures from his wounds of sacrifice. 
 Here is a will all free, to live or die. 
 To rule or serve, to dive to lowest hell 
 Or rise to highest heaven. East and West 
 Meet here. God yearning after man and man 
 Yearning for God, in this one perfect love, 
 In this one perfect life and death, are one. "
 
 THE PALM TREE. 63 
 
 THE PALM TREE. 
 
 I FELL one sunrise from the parent tree 
 And dropped into a sparkling rivulet, 
 And danced and leaped and hurried all the day 
 "With the bright music over silvery sand 
 And under mossy stones. The stream all gold 
 Beneath the yellow morning slowly changed 
 To richest sapphire, then the glowing noon 
 Flushed into evening, and ten thousand gems 
 Fired every facet of the diamond wave : 
 And when the last keen arrow left the west, 
 It quivered through the torrent as I fell 
 Sheer from the marble edge of the steep cliff 
 Into the green abyss. There was I lost, 
 I knew not day nor night. My only sense 
 Was of monotonous thunder, as the sea 
 Smote ceaseless on the granite shore. At last
 
 64 THE pal:m tree. 
 
 Even that expired. I woke benumbed and deaf, 
 Seized by a mighty current, and from deptlis 
 Of boundless azure rose and felt the day. 
 Now on the smooth warm surface of the sea 
 I hurried on, and now tossed to and fro 
 Far down, in spaces vast, below the light 
 1 weltered for a thousand tides. Sometimes 
 Wrapped in a mass of drifting weed, or caught 
 By broken boughs torn from the native tree 
 And flung abroad by the bUnd wind, sometimes 
 Alone I wandered on. The briny swarms 
 Flitted and flashed athwart with staring eyes. 
 Sometimes, when, fifty fathoms deep, the film 
 Of moonlight mingled and pervaded all 
 The dreary ocean with a ghastly white, 
 I dreamed long dreams of ages long gone by, 
 And in my dreams I felt ecstatic warmth 
 Breathe and then fade, then breathe and fade 
 
 again. 
 And saw above me fostering leaves hang down
 
 THE PALM TREE. 05 
 
 And rise and droop, and rise and droop again, 
 
 Then fluttered fairy wings of moth and bird. 
 
 And all the air flashed blue and red and gold, 
 
 And various fragrance and a curious sense 
 
 Of countless gleams amused me till I woke. 
 
 At last one midnight suddenly there boomed 
 
 That same monotonous thunder I had heard 
 
 Ages ago a thousand leagues away. 
 
 Then broke a wild confusion, and the morn 
 
 Rose on the mad despair of giant waves 
 
 Mocked by the unflinching rocks. Whirled by a 
 
 burst 
 Of foam, I rose into a cloud of spray 
 And sank at last bruised on an oozy mass 
 Of weed which smoked and reeked upon a ledge 
 Under the noon, the hideous rotten bands 
 Broke, and I sank into a smothering depth. 
 And there I died. I died and rose again. 
 I rose again, in doubt if e'er I'd lived, 
 For all was new. Delicious vigour poured 
 
 E
 
 66 THE PALM TREE. 
 
 Through all my h-Mim. Finn and erect I stood 
 Grasping the coral with tenacious root 
 And yearning towards the blue and silent sky, 
 Mor only yearning, for I strained rich life 
 From that in which I had died, and from the air 
 1 drank a chrystal ether, and I grew 
 Straight upwards. Every day I felt more free 
 And true and conscious of my inward self ; 
 And now I stand a perfect tree and gaze 
 Unwearied up to the clear heaven and far 
 Across that troubled sea which ceases not 
 By night or day to moan and hurry on. 
 I stand and nuise upon the strange vast deep 
 In which I weltered helpless and alone : 
 Now not alone, for now my verdant leaves 
 Wave o'er delicious fruit. Take freely, eat, 
 Sit in my shadow, rest, and then set sail, 
 Behind the farthest line doubtless a shore 
 Awaits thee, and. if death, then life beyond.
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 67 
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 There is more glory in the air, 
 
 More vastness in the sky, 
 The distance spreads more far and fair 
 
 Than ever to my eye : 
 
 I stand as quiet as a stone, 
 
 I dare not speak or move, 
 I feel mysteriously alone, 
 
 My heart is full of love : 
 
 I tremble lest a breath should break 
 The sleep of flower and tree, 
 
 My spirit only seems awake 
 'Mid nature's reverie. 
 
 Oh ! hour of rare unhoped-for grace, 
 
 I scarce believe it true, 
 The veil is passing from her fece 
 
 All in my happy view !
 
 (}9 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 W'tniUl slic but let her mantle fall, 
 
 And leave her beauty bare, 
 And shew the mystery of all 
 
 In earth, and sea, and air : 
 
 One awful moment would disclose 
 
 The secret which distils 
 Enchantment on the opening rose 
 
 And on the purple hills ! 
 
 'Tis gone ! yon pattering leaf has l)roke 
 
 The nuigic of the spell, 
 Some watchful Dryad shook the oak 
 
 And startled all the dell ! 
 
 The clouds sail on, the breeze blows free, 
 The earth is bright and glad, 
 
 The sungleams flash from tree to tree. 
 And leave me dark and sad.
 
 THE BEECH FOREST. 69 
 
 THE BEECH FOREST. 
 
 Away into the woodland maze 
 Ten thousand stems of branching beecli, 
 Throng down the briar-tangled ways 
 And o'er the purple distance reach : 
 
 There hundreds crowd as if in dread, 
 And here a giant veteran rears 
 His massive bulk and stately head, 
 Scarred with the brunts of stormy years : 
 
 One, queen-like, in a flowery space. 
 Stands parted from the meaner crowd, 
 In slim and solitary grace, 
 And mantled in a leafy cloud : 
 
 Exuberant in sap and seed. 
 
 Each on its storied front can shew
 
 THE F.EECH FOREST. 
 
 To liim wliose eye hatli skill to read, 
 A record rich in weal and woe : 
 
 To swell yon tower of haughty green 
 A genial summer smiled and wept, 
 And where those angry branches lean 
 Blasts of a sullen autumn swept : 
 
 E'en now I hear a million leaves 
 Shiver beneath the breath of fate, 
 And all the mighty forest heaves 
 With agonies of love and hate : 
 
 Above the broad and awful glooms 
 Which melt in sombre mystery there. 
 The anguish of a thousand tombs 
 Seems brooding in the solemn air. 
 
 In those innumerable gleams 
 Which sparkle through yon leafy screen, 
 A world of hope and gladness streams. 
 And dances in the quivering green :
 
 THE BEECH FOREST. 7 I 
 
 Now, stirred by evening's fitful breath 
 The glades beneath its splendours burn, 
 Keddened Avith streaks of blushing heath 
 And waving with fantastic fern : 
 
 And now a gradual deepening gray 
 Calms every passionate mood to rest, 
 And grove and thicket fade away 
 Into one dark and silent nest. 
 
 Farewell ! my human eyes are dim 
 With sympathy I cannot quell, 
 I hear a subtle tumult swim, 
 And all the woodland sighs farewell
 
 "72 THE PINE (iKOVE, 
 
 THE PINE GROVE. 
 
 The l)ees are humming in the noonday Howers, 
 
 And busy airs among the poplars set 
 
 Tlie leaves a-trickling like a rivulet 
 
 Or ceaseless pattering of September showers : 
 
 But when within this grove of sombre pines 
 I stand, no trivial noises strike my ears, 
 This is no place for laughter or for tears, 
 As yonder where the common daylight shines : 
 
 The solemn stems rise round me straight and tall. 
 They rise as if they once had pierced the sky, 
 And now their blasted summits throb and sigh 
 Like dim tide-echoes through a roofless hall. 
 
 Some winged gloom hath wandered from the sea, 
 And all the awful blackness overhead 
 Trembles beneath its trailing skirts, which spread 
 The rhythm of ocean billows on the breeze:
 
 THE PINE GROVE. 73 
 
 Or some sad spirit, like a child of song 
 Over his ruined harpstrings, comes to mourn 
 This psaltery of angels — now forlorn 
 Waste and neglected in this age of wrong. 
 
 Once hither came the sons of God and brought 
 The winds and thunders in their drooping wings, 
 And waving organs here and living strings 
 An ecstasy of boundless pathos wrought : 
 
 What wild mysterious raptures then were blown 
 Through these cathedral shafts ! what love and hope 
 Triumphed exulting through their endless scope 
 Now wrecked and broken, mossed and overgrown ! 
 
 Like them, though clogged with sordid cares and 
 
 fears, 
 Our hearts have kept some chords unrusted yet, 
 And thrill to that bleak music of regret 
 Which mourns the melodies of sinless years.
 
 74 THE HAREBELL. 
 
 THE HAREBELL. 
 
 Ah ! here we gain the purer air, 
 And yonder melts the distant view, 
 
 And in the heather blossoms fair 
 That llower of tender blue ! 
 
 As ever, on the upland wild 
 
 Where spade and plough have never been. 
 As simple as a mountain child, 
 
 As graceful as a queen. 
 
 "What dreams of youth those blossoms breathe, 
 "When stretched upon some heathland high 
 
 I gazed upon the vale beneath 
 Or up into the sky ; 
 
 And in the clouds or distant l>ar 
 
 Of hazy sea or fiiding hill, 
 Fountl that Avhich tells in something far 
 
 Of something farther still !
 
 THE HAREBELL. 75 
 
 What hours of sweet enjoyment spent 
 With those who now are far away, 
 
 Ye call to mind, Avhen childhood lent 
 A glory to the day : 
 
 When to that famous clump of trees, 
 
 We climbed to see the sail-spread downs. 
 
 And thought we smelt the briny seas 
 And heard the distant towns : 
 
 When later, with a little hand 
 
 Clasped close and trustfully in ours, 
 
 We clambered upwards through the sand 
 And named the summer flowers : 
 
 Till from the level summit bare 
 
 Stretched all the fruitful Severn vale, 
 
 And long we gazed, while leaning there 
 Upon the quarry rail !
 
 i b THE HAREBELL. 
 
 Whence did ye win that tender blue 1 
 From distant ghmpses of the sea, 
 
 Or from the gently fading view 
 That mingles hill and tree 1 
 
 Or do your buds attract the glow 
 Of heavenly azure from on high, 
 
 That pendent bells may cast below 
 The colour of the sky 1 
 
 As when the unconscious child from God 
 Breathes draughts of heavenly glory in, 
 
 For years mature to shed abroad 
 Upon this world of sin. 
 
 Something, I know not what, ye tell 
 Beyond the tongue of human art. 
 
 And fling from every silent bell 
 A music of the heart.
 
 KITTY. I ' 
 
 KITTY. 
 
 Wilful Kitty will go out a-playing 
 On this pretty merry May morning, 
 
 And the brook will go humming to meet her : 
 Wilful Kitty forgets mother's warning. 
 
 Kitty stands on a stone and looks down, 
 And keeps saying, " I wont," and " I will," 
 
 The brook looks up quietly at her : 
 Silly Robin, why sing you so shi'ill ? 
 
 Kitty throws down her clothes on the stone. 
 And stands in her little Avhite smock, 
 
 The brook looks more quiet than ever 
 In the wavering shade of the rock. 
 
 Now the brook has groAvn tired of playing 
 It has hid Kitty under the stone, 
 
 And away it goes panting and humming : 
 Silly Robin, how silent you've grown !
 
 < ^ A LANDSCAPE. 
 
 A LANDSCAPE. 
 
 A DISTANCE dim of waving line on line, 
 
 The faintest yellow bathing purple hills, 
 
 One level bay, is it the sea or plain 1 
 
 Then a rich bloom of miles of rolling woods. 
 
 Edged with brown fields of corn, some heaped wiili 
 
 cocks 
 And ready for the waggons toiling up 
 The sandy slope, some still unripe aiul low. 
 And here and there a farm with barns and fhn.s ; 
 In a sweet nest of walnuts and rough thorns 
 Lies to the left a mansion rod and gray, 
 Smoke from its thick-massed chimneys curls and 
 
 fades. 
 And on the riglit an oKl round toiver of stone. 
 
 Here as I stand it seems as if the life 
 I think I've lived had been a dream and here,
 
 A LANDSCAPE. 79 
 
 In this old mansion born and bred, those fields 
 
 Had been my haunts, and surely down that lane, 
 
 One evening after showers while odours rose 
 
 From secret violets, I met my love 
 
 And gained a promise sweeter than the Spring : 
 
 And one bright morning, seated on that stone, 
 
 I gazed my fill in richest solitude, 
 
 Till all the blessed hopes that thickly swarmed 
 
 From every object in the various scene 
 
 Clothed in the lichen of old memories, 
 
 ^Murmured like bees round ivy-mantled boughs, 
 
 And sleep stole o'er me, deep and full of dreams, 
 
 Which just now left me : or a sympathy 
 
 With some great love which broods over the spot 
 
 Has filled me with a thoughtful tenderness.
 
 so MARGARET. 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 1. 
 
 Into the garden I walked : ne'er had I seen her 
 
 before, 
 Under a budding white rose she stood in the 
 
 shade of the door, 
 Quiet and pale was her face, but maidenly bright 
 
 were her eyes, 
 Fair as the newly-born moon when h)W in tlic 
 
 easterly skies : 
 There as I stood by her side my spirit grew happy 
 
 and free, 
 \\'ouhl I had said wliat I thought, that none would 
 
 I marry but thee ! 
 The far off bells were tolling, for 'twas some one's 
 
 funeral day, 
 And in the meadow close by the mowers were 
 
 mowing the hay.
 
 MARGARET. 81 
 
 2. 
 
 Into the garden I walked : but once had I seen 
 
 her before, 
 Vacant and still was the house, wide open w\as 
 
 standing the door, 
 Then silent and listening I went up to the curtain- 
 less bed. 
 Where she lay shrouded in white, all winterly, 
 
 lonely and dead ; 
 There was a look in her face, as if she'd l^een 
 
 thinking of me, 
 " Dear Margaret," then whispered I, "none will I 
 
 marry but thee ! " 
 And the far off bells were ringing, for 'twas some 
 
 one's wedding day, 
 And in the meadow close by the mowers were 
 
 mowing the hay.
 
 82 MARGARET. 
 
 Silent and dark was yon lake as under the desolate 
 
 hill, 
 Lit by no gleam from the sky, it slumbered there 
 
 dreary and still, 
 Till with its swallow-like wing the wind in its 
 
 wandering flight 
 Touched into music the reeds, and broke it in 
 
 ripples of light : 
 Silent and dark was my heart, till suddenly thrilled 
 
 by the tone 
 Tender and pure of the voice which told me I was 
 
 not alone ; 
 Yet how I long to be dead, whene'er on a calm 
 
 summer day 
 The far off bells are ringing, and moAvers are 
 
 moAving the hay !
 
 MAY-TIME. 83 
 
 MAY-TIME. 
 
 In the fruitful mist of May^ 
 
 Blossoms whitening every bough, 
 
 Warble, blackbird, from the spray ! 
 I will sing as gay as thou. 
 
 Blushing bud and bursting seed, 
 Joy that murmurs rich and low, 
 
 Life that teems in every weed. 
 In my cheerful verse shall flow. 
 
 But there's something doth surpass 
 
 All my effort to be gay, 
 Tenderer than the tender grass, 
 
 Deeper than the sky of May.
 
 84 MAY-TIME. 
 
 As a bashful maiden's face, 
 
 Though a cheerfulness she tries, 
 
 Saddens to a mournful grace 
 Under love's beseeching eyes. 
 
 All the melodies of May 
 
 Cannot lull the heart to sleep. 
 
 Warble, blackbird, from the spray ! 
 I will love and I must weep.
 
 MExMORY AND HOPE. 85 
 
 MEMORY AND HOPE. 
 
 Dark-eyed Memory ! sitting ever 
 At thy lonely casement window ; 
 Watching little children playing 
 Careless in a summer garden ; 
 Watching children picking cowslips 
 On a little sunny slope ; 
 Watching youths and maidens conning 
 Daily tasks, or wandering freely 
 All among the fields and flowers, 
 Or with eyes cast up to heaven ; 
 Watching figures ever passing 
 In the distance out of sight ! 
 Let me bring another maiden. 
 Blue-eyed Hope with golden hair, 
 Let her take the seat before thee 
 Let her gaze the other way, 
 She will see again the children,
 
 86 MEMOUY AND HOPE. 
 
 She will see the youths and maidens 
 And tlie figures that were lost, 
 Only she must wait till fitful 
 Flushes of a warmer sunlight 
 Pour upon the sparkling ocean 
 And upon the distant city. 
 Let me come at holy seasons 
 When my heart is pure and quiet, 
 Let me sit and let me listen 
 While you talk of Avhat you see !
 
 MORNING SONG. 87 
 
 MORNING SONG. 
 1. 
 
 Fresh wind of the morning ! say, whither away 1 
 The dewdrop is bright on the fern and the briar, 
 The lark in the zenith soars higher and higher. 
 Across the broad sea burns a pathway of fire ; 
 Say, whither away 1 
 
 2. 
 Fresh Avind of the morning ! say whither away 1 
 On the verge of the forest the aspen leaves 
 
 quiver, 
 The beards of the gray barley glitter and shiver, 
 The arrow-winged swallow is skimming the 
 river : 
 
 Say, whither away 1 
 
 3. 
 
 Fresh wind of the morning ! say, whither away 1 
 The long grass is glistering cheerily now,
 
 88 MORNING SONG. 
 
 Tlie shadows are tossed from each waverins; 
 
 bough, 
 The streamlet is rippling as merry as thou : 
 Say, whither away 1 
 
 4. 
 
 Fresh wind of the morning ! say, whither away 1 
 The noon will come quickly Avith hot heavy 
 
 beam, 
 The forest will droop in its southerly gleam, 
 And my heart will grow faint with some feverish 
 dream : 
 
 Say, whither aAvay ? 
 
 5. 
 
 Fresh wind of the morning ! say, whither away 1 
 Oh ! lift me exulting and drift me with thee 
 O'er the leaves of the woodland and surf of the 
 
 sea ! 
 To what distant mountain or isle shall we flee 1 
 Say, whither aAvay 1
 
 AN EXPERIENCE, 89 
 
 AN EXPEPJENCE. 
 
 For a moment — as I laid my head 
 On the pillow of my quiet bed, 
 Came a feeling as if some one kindly 
 Led me onward — then departed blindly : 
 As if some one, wise and condescending, 
 For a moment to my weakness bending 
 Led me gently — for a moment only — 
 Then abruptly left me sad and lonely. 
 Did he think me his own charge, then finding 
 'Twas a stranger, left me, without minding 
 My dejection, — left me in my anguish 1 
 Was it kindly done to let me languish ? 
 First to cheer me, like an elder brother. 
 Then, as scorning, turn to seek another 1 
 Was it haply that my vessel fleeing 
 Free and careless o'er the sea of being. 
 On a sudden caught a breeze that fleetly 
 Blew it onward, for a moment sweetly.
 
 90 AN EXPERIENCE. 
 
 The calm current which across the ocean 
 
 Breathes incessant witli a steady motion, 
 
 Never fitful but for ever slowly, 
 
 To the islands of the pure and holy, 
 
 Then unguided my poor vessel drifted 
 
 In a moment where the tempest shifted 
 
 All its canvas with a sudden shudder, 
 
 For I knew not how to guide the rudder 1 
 
 Was it hai)ly love the best and highest 
 
 E'en in silence ever deepest nighest, 
 
 To prepare me for a coming sorrow 
 
 Which was brooding o'er the weary morrow. 
 
 By the faintest touch of pure volition 
 
 Stirred an eager trembling intuition. 
 
 Of a mighty presence all-providing. 
 
 For an instant, stooping, smiling, guiding, 
 
 Then as quickly as a word half-spoken 
 
 Left me yearning almost spirit-broken, 
 
 Doubting, listening, watching, upward-reaching. 
 
 And then sinking into mute beseeching 1
 
 THE JIAID'S song. 91 
 
 THE MAID'S SONG. 
 
 1. 
 
 We raised our oars and floated down the river, 
 And while we watched the ruby sunset fade, 
 We heard the reeds hum and the aspen shiver, 
 And the slow singing of a lonely maid. 
 And this was all the burden of her rhyme : 
 Farewell, youth ! farewell green days of summer 
 
 prime ! 
 Oh Time ! oh false Time ! oh treacherous Time ! 
 
 From the tall weeds into the evening sky 
 A wild fowl rose and sped its silent way, 
 Lessening and lessening to the straining eye. 
 Into the crimson of the dying day, 
 And still we heard the burden of her rhyme :
 
 92 THE maid's song. 
 
 Farewell, youth ! farewell green days of summer 
 
 prime ! 
 Oh Time ! oh false Time ! oh treacherous Time ! 
 
 3. 
 
 And now and then the fish leapt in the stream, 
 Rippling bright circles to the darkening shores, 
 And through the alder boughs we caught the gleam 
 Of the first star and then we dipped our oars, 
 And still we heard the burden of her rhyme : 
 Farewell, youth ! farewell green days of summer 
 
 prime ! 
 Oh Time ! oh false Time ! oh treacherous Time !
 
 THE FISHERMAN. 93 
 
 THE FISHERMAN. 
 
 1. 
 
 The ocean was bright 
 In the clear moonlight, 
 And the sail was flapped by a breeze from the shore, 
 And the playful joy 
 Of mother and boy 
 Merrily rang to the deep sea's roar : 
 
 On the rock above, 
 
 With a look of love. 
 The Fisherman watched as he dried his net 
 
 For a little space 
 
 He inclined his face, 
 And with a plash the boat was upset :
 
 94 THE FISHERMAN. 
 
 3. 
 
 He plunged in and sunk : 
 But the sea had drunk, 
 
 Witli a sudden thirst for the golden joy, 
 Her face that was fair 
 And the child's bright hair : 
 
 And both were gone : the mother and boy ! 
 
 He righted the boat 
 
 And set her afloat, 
 And along the moon's white path from the shore, 
 
 On the edire of the gale, 
 
 With a tightened sail. 
 He steered away, and returned no more.
 
 LINES ON A PICTUKE. 95 
 
 LINES ON A PICTUEE. 
 
 In a sad prison, lighted sparingly 
 With light direct from heaven, and sitting low, 
 As if in shame, he bows his conscious head 
 And listens to the lispings of a child, 
 A child who prays — and every simple word 
 Pierces his stubborn heart, and every nerve 
 Writhes with the memories of sinless home : 
 Nor dare he look at her nor at the crock 
 Filled with fresh water from his cottage well : 
 For his own will has been his law, and now, 
 The fields he ranged, the dew of early hours, 
 The distance spread with freedom's cheerful hue. 
 The sweet return from toil at glimmering eve, 
 Are his no more. I know of one who stands 
 Sometimes and gazes at that scene, and thrills 
 And wonders in his heart and says 'Tls I.
 
 96 LINES ON A PICTURE. 
 
 For once he ranged the open fields and knew 
 
 The joy of lonely rambles, once his foot 
 
 Sprang from the untilled turf, and mountain winds 
 
 Dashed the pure rain against his fearless face. 
 
 And, in the silence of fresh dawn, among 
 
 The fragrant dews of half-awakened flowers. 
 
 He watched the dehcate morning leisurely 
 
 Kise faintly blushing from her dream of stars 
 
 And awful azure till on trembling Avings 
 
 Of soft transparent fire she lit erect 
 
 At last upon an eastern hill awake : 
 
 Or from some hardy edge of rock, he gazed 
 
 Upon the far off ridges all a-blaze 
 
 With evening passionate and swift going down 
 
 To gather thunder from the nameless land 
 
 Behind the western distance and in clouds 
 
 To flare it o'er the anxious firmament : 
 
 But now, by heaven's mysterious chastisement 
 
 No longer free, he sits God's prisoner, 
 
 As in yon picture, and from children's lips
 
 LINES ON A PICTURE. 97 
 
 He hears that will which often he has spurned, 
 They feed him in their true simplicity, 
 They bring him water from the well of life, 
 They are what he must be and might have been. 
 He sits, and dreams, and yearns, and when he 
 sees 
 Others depart with careless tread and eyes 
 Bright with clear self-reliance, then he weans 
 His heart, even as a mother weans her babe. 
 And thinks the common joys of healthy life 
 Too high for him. Perhaps God means it all 
 For good, and 'tis his easy martyrdom. 
 
 G
 
 98 ON THE DEATH OF A HAWK. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A HAWK. 
 
 Beautiful hawk, thou art dead ! 
 Shut up, forgotten, and starved to death ! 
 At last thou art free and hast fled : 
 When I wooed thee I wasted my breath, 
 When I smiled and caressed thee, thou answeredst 
 again 
 With a shriek of hate 
 And a glance of bitter disdain 
 And a stornful defiance of fate. 
 
 " Let me go," thou saidst, " let me go. 
 From this garden of thine 
 To the desolate heath that I know : 
 ]\Iy wings are stiff and I long to rise 
 And be blown about by the wind in the stormy 
 
 skies : 
 I lung to sit on a branch of the withered pine 
 That stands and scowls
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A HAWK. 99 
 
 Down on the marsh from the top of the hill, 
 And challenge the owls 
 When the sun goes down and the air is still." 
 
 Beautiful hawk ! I shall miss thy bright brown 
 eye, 
 And thy sad wild cry : 
 Thou didst pine 
 In this garden of mine, 
 Like a fish of the Arctic sea 
 In a gulf of the south, but at last thou art free, 
 No thanks to me ! 
 To-morrow the sky will be overcast 
 And thou shalt be mourned by the blast 
 That blows from the north, and over thy grave 
 All night the storm will shiver and rave 
 And showers of sorrowful rain Avill fall : 
 But what matter 1 for thou wilt not hear it at all, 
 And with the world we all shall go round 
 And thou wilt go with us under the ground.
 
 100 DAIMARIS. 
 
 DAMAKIS. 
 
 The gentlest of all the young maids of the village 
 Was poor rustic Damaris who lived on the hill, 
 When she met you, 'twas like a fresh breath of the 
 
 morning, 
 When she spoke, it was like the clear voice of the 
 
 rill. 
 
 Her hair was rich brown like the newly-ploughed 
 
 fallow. 
 Her eye was clear blue Uke the noon of sweet May, 
 She looked with her lap full of flowers of tlie 
 
 meadow 
 In the happy warm sunlight as artless as they : 
 
 When she sang a wild song of " A poor little red- 
 breast," 
 Her notes were so simple, so clear, yet so soft.
 
 DAMARIS. 101 
 
 It seemed as if she stood there listening in sil- 
 ence 
 
 And the poor little red-breast were warbling aloft : 
 
 In the choir and the cottage her voice was the 
 
 sweetest, 
 Trained to anthems seraphic of praise and of 
 
 prayer, 
 So her spirit was tuned to the spirit of heaven, 
 And she learned its pure language before she went 
 
 there : 
 
 For this world was too cold for our poor little red- 
 breast, 
 
 A voice called, " Come Damaris ! " she rose and 
 obeyed, 
 
 And she went warbling upward to meet the bright 
 angels 
 
 And left her poor village in silence and shade :
 
 1 02 DAMARIS. 
 
 And oft wlien brown Autumn strews leaves on the 
 
 woodland, 
 And her birds sing of hope from the sliivering 
 
 spray, 
 In my heart or the sky there's an echo which 
 
 lingers 
 A few precious moments, then trembles away.
 
 YEAKNINGS. 103 
 
 YEAENINGS. 
 
 What are ye hunting, wild waves of the ocean ! 
 Like eager hounds chasing some quarry unseen, 
 Foaming and bounding in crowded commotion 
 Right onward, still onward, resistless and keen 1 
 
 What art thou gazing at, beautiful star ! 
 
 With passion so trembling, so pure and so bright, 
 
 What central mystery wooes from afar 
 
 The thirst of thy diamond-like arrows of light 1 
 
 W^hat art thou seeking, disconsolate wind ! 
 Now sobbing, now sighing, now faint with despair, 
 O'er the lone moorlands what phantoms to find 
 Bewildered thus wanderest thou burdened with 
 care 1
 
 104 YEARNINGS. 
 
 What art thou yearning for, flame of the ingle ! 
 Consuming the bLackness with hunger of light, 
 Leaping and flashing, with what wouldst thou 
 
 mingle 
 Updarting thy life away into the night 1 
 
 AVhat art thou sighing for, poor bitter heart ! 
 As lonely in croAvds as in regions untrod, 
 AVatching dim visions approach and depart. 
 Poor heart, is it rest, is it truth, is it God ?
 
 AUTUMN. 105 
 
 AUTU]\IN. 
 
 Dear pensive Autumn ! evening of the year ! 
 Now from thy groves in sunsets bathed we borrow 
 Their russet hues and paint each falling tear 
 With tints of gold unowned by peevish sorrow ; 
 
 A tender glow to soften and assuage 
 Breathes o'er each wood and vale, each flower and 
 leaf, 
 
 Like the mild hope that calms bereaved age. 
 The doubt that soothes a child's first earnest 
 grief : 
 
 The radiant Summer's bold and dazzling eye 
 Now brightens other climes, for, like the swallow, 
 Her eager beauty came and glided by, 
 Leaving us here allured in vain to follow :
 
 106 AUTUMN. 
 
 Nor need wo grieve that all too speedy flight, 
 For Autumn comes, as came from Eden's bowers. 
 Perchance, to banished Eve, a seraph bright 
 At times with fragrant tokens of its flowers ; 
 
 In every sound beneath her misty sky, 
 In every gleam upon her golden hair. 
 There seems a glow of summers long gone by, 
 A tone left quivering on the lazy air ; 
 
 Those happy days are dead, but are not lost, 
 What we have been we never cease to be, 
 And where our bark was rudely tempest-tossed 
 Shines from afar a calm and sunny sea. 
 
 Oh ! stay, fair Autumn ! dear delicious dream, 
 Why must that crimson grove that clothes tlie 
 
 vale 
 Shed all its glories in yon chrystal stream, 
 And naked, shivering, meet November's hail ?
 
 AUTUMN. 107 
 
 While yet thou lingerest teach me ere we part, 
 From hope-awakening cahn like thine to borrow 
 That winning charm which soothes the mourner's 
 
 heart 
 That happy smile in death, that hallowed sorrow.
 
 108 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 'Tis still, the sky, the night, the air is still ! 
 And so too is my heart, and yet I weep 
 And am most deeply sad, such grief doth fill 
 The soul with a mysterious bitter sleep ; 
 Alas ! that all such beauty smiling round 
 Friendship, and love, and every gentle sound 
 
 Should dim with secret tears my sight, 
 
 In the sweet silent night ! 
 
 Hope sickens, faith fades, even love doth weep. 
 
 All is too fair, and calm, and silent-bright, 
 
 Why do I still live on, why doth not sleep, 
 
 A last sleep, steal upon my sense and sight ] 
 
 And yet there is an ecstasy in sorrow 
 
 Such as this is — this heart which shuns to-morrow, 
 
 And these hot tears which dim my sight 
 
 In the sweet silent night !
 
 A LAMENT. 109 
 
 A LAMENT. 
 
 I SEE the orange light of summer eves, 
 The black trees cutting the fresh open sky, 
 I hear the trembling of the poplar leaves 
 And my cheek feels the dreamy wind pass by : 
 
 Within my heart the unsealed fountain swells. 
 Stirred in their central caves the deep fires burn, 
 But this hard heavy world the straining quells, 
 And all my spirit groans at its return : 
 
 A lone isle blooming to the silent stars, 
 A wind-swept harp on a forsaken shore, 
 A captive peering through his prison bars, 
 A seagull caged that hears the ocean's roar.
 
 1 10 WATERLOO. 
 
 WATEELOO. 
 
 The sun shines bright on Waterloo ! 
 O'er level mead and fragrant lea, 
 The truant child in lonely glee 
 Is chasing butterfly and bee 
 
 From flower to flower on Waterloo. 
 
 The sun shines warm on Waterloo ! 
 The gnat hums in the sultry air, 
 In the tall corn the poppies glare, 
 The sky of June is brooding bare 
 O'er fold and farm on Waterloo. 
 
 The dawn is gray on Waterloo ! 
 
 With clarion shrill and rolling drum, 
 Muster dim squadrons, stern and dumb. 
 The darkest, deadliest day is come 
 That ever rose on Waterloo.
 
 WATERLOO. 1 1 1 
 
 The morning wakes on Waterloo ! 
 
 In vain Spring airs and Summer showers 
 Have nursed those gay unconscious flowers, 
 For gloomier clouds and bleaker hours 
 Untimely burst on Waterloo. 
 
 A day of wrath on Waterloo ! 
 
 The bold shall stagger like the blind, 
 The lion flee like hunted hind, 
 A stronger than the strong unbind 
 A captive world on Waterloo. 
 
 The sun shines red on Waterloo ! 
 
 The headlong battle's fierce delight 
 From Houg'mont's towers to St. Jean's height 
 Kolls like a sea of dazzling bright, 
 To and fro on Waterloo. 
 
 The sun goes down on Waterloo ! 
 
 The fields are wearied with the roar,
 
 1 1 2 WATERLOO. 
 
 The trampled corn is wet with gore, 
 And stark and scorched the flowery floor 
 That waved so gay on Waterloo. 
 
 The rain falls cold on \yaterloo ! 
 
 The dying soldier turns on high 
 His painful glance to yon chill sky, 
 And meets alone the awful eye 
 Which gazes down on Waterloo.
 
 A SUMMER evening's DREAM. 113 
 
 A SUMMER EVENING'S DEEAM. 
 
 In the long evening of a summer day, 
 
 While the last rosy light was slowly fading, 
 
 To a sad sleep I wept myself away, 
 
 Wearied with melancholy self-upbraiding ; 
 
 And in a dream I wandered by a river, 
 
 Where bordering willows watched the sluggish 
 wave. 
 
 Which, as it flowed, kept a low moaning ever. 
 Chiding the meadow flowers it loved to lave ; 
 
 Along the bank, with lingering lazy motion. 
 
 Wandered a maiden tall and nobly fair, 
 
 Her form and features roused my heart's devotion, 
 
 But much I mused to see such beauty there ; 
 
 H
 
 114 A SUMMER evening's DREAM. 
 
 Her long fair hair streamed carelessly and low, 
 Her large eyes gleamed with many a swelling 
 tear, 
 
 But, as I met her glance, she moved less slow. 
 And, smiling, met me without pause or fear ; 
 
 I gazed upon her face so fair and sad 
 
 Until for her my heart with love and grief 
 
 Seemed bursting, but she spoke with accent glad, 
 And, as she spoke, in tears I found relief ; 
 
 At last I've met thee, many a weary day 
 
 I've wandered o'er the paths of this lone place, 
 
 And wished and waited for thee, what delay 
 So long detained thei' from my fond embrace ] " 
 
 And then she kissed my eyes, and on the ground 
 We sat together, and she laid her head 
 
 I'pon my shoulder, and her hair uuImjuimI 
 Fell to my knee, and looking up she shed
 
 A SUMMER evening's DREAM. 115 
 
 From her mysterious gaze a moist pure light, 
 And as she clasped me, though I had not 
 spoken, 
 
 Kept still repeating, " many a weary niglit 
 And many a weary day in toil unbroken 
 
 " Have I sought for thee, hast thou come at last "? 
 
 Thou shalt be mine," and then her cold pale 
 cheek 
 She pressed against my face, and, locking fast 
 
 Her chilly hand in mine, she ceased to speak ; 
 
 That slow and solemn voice, the tears I shed, 
 Those eyes from which the moon her light might 
 borrow, 
 Kept me long speechless, but at length I said, 
 " What is thy name 1 " " My name," said she, 
 " is Sorrow."
 
 llC) SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM 
 
 SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S 
 DREAM. 
 
 And, after twenty years, again I dreamed, 
 And I and mine Avere walking side by side, 
 'Twas sunshine after showers, and brightly gleamed 
 The rain-gemmed heath and forest far and wide : 
 
 xVnd slow-paced clouds were drawing mighty 
 
 glooms 
 Over the vale through which our road had passed. 
 But where the cy^iress marked a place of tombs. 
 E'en as I fondly gazed, a light was cast : 
 
 And as wc walked, I dried some hasty tears, 
 And smiling watched the cheerful soothe the sad, 
 In mutual truth they lost fatigue and fears. 
 In sympathy more happy than the glad.
 
 SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM. 1 17 
 
 Our downward path wound through a woodland 
 
 deU, 
 Where a broad chestnut reared his lofty head, 
 And near it ceaseless dropped a living well 
 And all around a lawn-like verdure spread. 
 
 Though ploughed by many a Avind, its branches 
 
 made 
 A shelter where a hundred kine might browse, 
 A lavish feast of luscious light and shade 
 With salt and bitterness of rugged boughs ; 
 
 A tower o'er which the seas of strife had rolled, 
 A world of life with many a mossy nest 
 Safe in its dark recesses, calm and old, 
 It stood, like Abraham, offering shade and rest : 
 
 And there we knelt and prayed, then one broke 
 
 bread 
 And filled a cup with water from the well,
 
 118 SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM. 
 
 We ate and rested when our meal was spread, 
 Wliik' o'er the forest glades the noontide fell. 
 
 And down the vale the approaching form we saw 
 Of one I knew, with modest steps and slow 
 She came, and o'er us stole a gentle awe, 
 As when the wind in moonlight whispers low : 
 
 A warm sweet Autumn brown was on her cheek, 
 Her deep eyes glowed with matron love benign. 
 Like the calm Shunamite resigned and meek, 
 She seemed to say, " Thy will be done, not mine !" 
 
 She sat and talked of all our toilsome way 
 And all the toilsome way we yet must roam. 
 Till doubt and care shall cease some certain day, 
 And every sufferer find his Father's home : 
 
 We talked of Job beneath the unsparing rod, 
 Once king of comforters, discrowned and bare,
 
 SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM. 119 
 
 Gazing across the desert, sure of God, 
 In friendless anguish conquering despair : 
 
 And of the sad Naomi, like a ship 
 Wrecked on a bitter sea, yet through the foam, 
 Prayer in her heart and on her trembling lip, 
 Led with true Euth into a stormless home : 
 
 Of Jacob, how for his lost son he wept, 
 And all his years in dark forebodings passed. 
 Wrestling till dawn, and, fearing, trusting, slept 
 Father of fathers ! in Thine arms at last : 
 
 And of repentant David, o'er his lyre 
 Bending with tangled beard and streaming hair, 
 Emptying his mighty heart of all its fire. 
 And burning upwards in a flame of prayer : 
 
 And of Augustine by his mother's bier 
 Yearning with tearless eye from where she lay.
 
 1 20 SEQUEL TO A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM. 
 
 To tliose dread heiglits Avhere late in holy fear 
 Their eagle souls had winged adventurous way : 
 
 While tluis we talked our hearts within us burned 
 And when, as evening made our converse cease, 
 One asked her name, this answer she returned, 
 " Men call me Sorrow, but God calls me Peace."
 
 SHELTER. 1 2 1 
 
 SHELTER. 
 
 As in the thirsty wilderness the hart 
 
 Pants for the shady waters far away, 
 
 As the wild dove stricken by the fowler's dart 
 
 Flies to the lone glen, darkened from the day ; 
 
 So I desire, with thirst and pain oppressed, 
 To turn aside from the tumultuous crowd, 
 And seek pure waters and a separate rest 
 Beneath the secret shadow of thy cloud ; 
 
 My heart is worn and weary, and my eyes 
 Are dim with weeping all the long slow day, 
 Loading the wind with melancholy sighs 
 I yearn in vain to weep my life away — 
 
 But there are times when the blue sky is clear, 
 And I have roamed from where the many be.
 
 122 SHELTER. 
 
 When, wafted to my spiritual ear, 
 
 I catch some murmurs of a distant sea, 
 
 At early morn or solemn even time. 
 That sound comes low and clear across the wild, 
 As swells from some grey tower the village chime, 
 Like dear home voices, to a wandering child : 
 
 Alas ! those times are few, my ear is dull, 
 That happy shore is very far away, 
 The early loved, the meek, the beautiful, 
 Have gone, and left me here alone, to stray ; 
 
 But Thou art near ! Thou seest, hearest me ! 
 From deep within my heart a thrilling tone 
 Rises in concord with that mystic sea, 
 I am not left ! I am not all alone !
 
 ON TAKING POSSESSION OF A NEW STUDY. 123 
 
 ON TAKING POSSESSION OF A NEW 
 
 STUDY. 
 
 Thus, Lord ! from stage to stage Thou leadest on, 
 Sometimes a hut, sometimes a splendid dome, 
 Shelters us weary on our journey home. 
 Sometimes a gourd, no sooner grown than gone : 
 
 But we, poor fools ! each time we lay aside 
 The cloak and staff, look round and sigh or smile 
 As the night's lodging looks superb or vile. 
 And say that here at last we shall abide. 
 
 Oh ! could we see the place which Thou hast 
 
 planned 
 For those Thou lovest, we should never rest 
 For more than needful solace in the best 
 And richest wayside inn of all the land :
 
 124 ON TAKING POSSESSION OF A NEW STUDY. 
 
 And we should be so wholly fixed and bent 
 On a safe issue, we should hardly see 
 The bed or board, our only care would be — 
 Ls this the way the Man of Sorrows went 1
 
 TOUCH ME NOT." 125 
 
 "TOUCH ME NOT." 
 
 When at deep dawn the Magdalene 
 Stood wildered by the open tomb, 
 " Mary ! " she heard, — the sound as keen 
 As lightning pierced her spirit's gloom : 
 
 All eye, all ear, with heart on fire, 
 She turned to clasp the Lost and Found, 
 But stronger than her warm desire 
 Beamed from that eye a calm profound : 
 
 Calm, deeper than the calm of death, 
 Of Life, beyond the touch of sense, 
 Of Love, a new creation's breath, 
 The secret of Omnipotence. 
 
 Henceforth to her and all His own 
 
 All things, even He— the Christ, — were new, 
 
 And by the quickening spirit sown. 
 
 The Risen Life within them grew.
 
 12G " TOUCH ME NOT.'' 
 
 And, Lord, in tlii.s our gloomy morn, 
 AVhen toucli and ear and eyesight fail. 
 Call each by name thy sheep forlorn, 
 And take us all within the vail ! 
 
 Teach us the length, depth, breadth and height, 
 The Love which conquers death and sin, 
 And lead us to the Living Light, 
 The Spiritual Christ within !
 
 THE TIRED CHILD. 127 
 
 THE TIRED CHILD. 
 
 Dear mother Sleep ! 'thas been a merry day, 
 But I am vexed and tired with all my play, 
 And long to creep into thy breast 
 And sink to silent rest. 
 
 Dear mother Sleep ! my pretty toys are broken, 
 Here's pleasure, health, and hope, and many a 
 
 token : 
 Our play has been too rude and rough : 
 
 'Tis late, we've had enough. 
 
 'Twas on thy breast I lay, dear mother Sleep 1 
 Before I'd ever learnt to laugh or weep. 
 And now I'll rest there all the night, 
 Until to-morrow's light. 
 
 Thou art most sweet ; I turn to seek thy breast 
 Away from all the dearest, kindest, best,
 
 128 THE TIRED CHILI). 
 
 Because thou art so soft and still, 
 And I am tired and ill. 
 
 Dear mother Sleep ! they tell me that to-morrow 
 Will be a perfect day without a sorrow, 
 That we shall play in a green place 
 Before our Master's face. 
 
 For He has gone before us to prepare 
 A larger garden in a purer air, 
 That we may all together stay 
 Close to Him all the day. 
 
 'Tis darker now : I'll try to think I see 
 The Master's countenance bending over me, 
 Smiling from out a flood of light, 
 Arched by a rainbow bright. 
 
 They say that He embraces all who seek 
 His gentle arms and that He loves the weak ; 
 I am so weak no tongue can tell : 
 Dear mother Sleep, farewell !
 
 TO A. H. ON HER MARRIAGE. 129 
 
 TO A. H. ON HER MARRIAGE TO THE 
 BISHOP OF S. L. 
 
 How oft, when summer suns were low, 
 Along that bounded woodland scene 
 
 Thy thoughtful eye has wandered slow, 
 And studied all its varied green : 
 
 Trim gardens of the twining hop, 
 Corn, fallow, copse, and pasture fill 
 
 The distance to the rounded top 
 And bare curve of the dusky hill : 
 
 Thy daily steps in childhood's hour 
 
 Followed as free each airy wing 
 
 That flitted gay from flower to flower 
 
 Rich with the juices of the Spring : 
 I
 
 130 TO A. H. ON HER MARRIAGE TO 
 
 Thy daily gaze, when roaming lone 
 Or witli thy sisters hand in hand, 
 
 Dwelt on each blossom newly blown 
 In all the dear familiar land : 
 
 Till, when maturer thought grew keen, 
 Some still day, like a falling river 
 
 Gushed on thee all the glorious scene 
 Stamped on the brain and soul for ever : 
 
 And, in God's time, His living Word 
 
 Pierced all thy conscious spirit through, 
 Till burst the heart's strong utterance, " Lord ! 
 " What wilt thou have thy servant do ? " 
 
 Thus nurtured in a house of prayer, 
 And fed with beauty, love, and truth, 
 
 Tliy watchful Master did prepare 
 For bolder life thy tender youth.
 
 THE BISHOP OF S. L.' 131 
 
 How little then conceived thy heart 
 A wider stranger home could be 
 
 Destined for her who chose her part 
 So close beside her mother's knee ! 
 
 That He who stretched without a bound 
 The sky o'er mountain, vale, and plain. 
 
 Had traced for thee a line beyond 
 The billows of the southern main ! 
 
 Or did thy fancy ever stray 
 
 To fair Sierra's sunny strand, 
 And see the dusky children play 
 
 At eve upon the golden sand. 
 
 And hear the rich Yoruba pour 
 
 Joy wild as the exulting sea 
 And welcome from the crowded shore 
 
 Each rescued brother bounding free !
 
 132 TO A. II. ON HER ISLVRRIAGE TO 
 
 Thy work is there ; fear not to drink 
 The cup thy Lord did not forego, 
 
 Seek jewels in the dust, nor shrink 
 From contact with the mean and low. 
 
 Now test thy handicraft, and rouse 
 Thy seraph skill in sacred arts 
 
 To fashion for the Master's house 
 
 The thrice-tried gold of suffering hearts. 
 
 Thy winning smile, like morning light, 
 Must many a darkening cloud unroll, 
 
 Thy pitying tears, like dews of night, 
 Soothe many a parched and wasted soul ; 
 
 Like fountain murmuring o'er the sand. 
 Thy voice must woo to waters pure ; 
 
 Like standard raised, thy lifted hand 
 
 Must guide the wanderer straight and sure.
 
 THE BISHOP OF S. L. 133 
 
 Glide swiftly, gallant ship ! the sails 
 That wing thy flight have ne'er before 
 
 Swelled with such unreluctant s-ales. 
 Or wafted richer freight ashore. 
 
 Ah ! gathered fresh at morning tide : 
 Alas ! the odour fills the air, 
 
 But when we move the leaves aside, 
 Tlie violet hangs no longer there. 
 
 A plaintive tone shall thrill the grove, 
 
 A sadness linger on the lawn. 
 For the lost murmur of the dove 
 
 And missed step of the timid fawn. 
 
 Go to be blessed and bless, the bride 
 Of firm endeavour, sacred zeal. 
 
 Watch ever at the shepherd's side, 
 
 Seek the young lambs, and soothe and heal.
 
 131 TO A. H. ON IIEIl MARRIAGE. 
 
 Hardly relinquished ! slowly given ! 
 
 The precious daughter, sister, friend. 
 The chain has been unclasped not riven, 
 
 Farewell ! we look beyond the end.
 
 PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 135 
 
 PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Fain is my tongue to talk of thee, 
 
 Term of my heart's intense desire ! 
 Far haven of yon azure sea, 
 
 Beyond those isles of fire ; 
 Orb of God's central awful grace ! 
 
 Thy brightness, like a glory cast 
 Before the unseen Father's face, 
 
 Sleeps on the circling vast. 
 Trembling and dim the splendours glow 
 
 Above these deserts far away, 
 As sundawn when the clouds are low 
 
 Gleams through a veil of gray : 
 Sometimes within the dreary haunt 
 Of weeping guilt thy tokens steal, 
 Or o'er the pallid features slant 
 
 Where death alone can heal :
 
 13G PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Lik(! angels' wings we see them glide 
 Across our bleak and lonely ways, 
 Or, sweetening holy converse, slide 
 
 Athwart our mutual gaze. 
 Now from that dark profound serene, 
 Each dim prophetic sight and sound 
 Comes o'er my raptured spirit keen ! 
 
 I stand on holy ground ! 
 Successive visions strike my sense, 
 
 Some glow and pass, no record stays. 
 Some linger ere they vanish hence. 
 And brighten while I gaze. 
 
 1. 
 
 In silence of a perfect dawn, 
 
 Eoses of Eden flush the glade. 
 With trees of life the emerald lawn 
 
 Waves cool in healing shade.
 
 PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 13', 
 
 2. 
 
 Within the coral crowned with palm 
 
 While on far rocks the breakers wail, 
 A ship lies mirrored in the calm 
 And drops her useless sail. 
 
 3. 
 
 Flashing its golden pavement fires 
 A sun-bright city glitters stern, 
 'Mid cedar groves, star-pointed spires 
 O'er domes of diamond burn. 
 
 4. 
 O'er barren sands cool water floAvs, 
 
 Fresh roses blossom, showers sing, 
 The drear Sahara heaves and glows 
 To greet its primal spring. 
 
 5. 
 
 A messenger by trackless ways, 
 
 Through silent ether's teeming space. 
 Abysmal gloom and astral blaze. 
 
 Bears the glad sign of grace.
 
 1 38 PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 6. 
 The godless writhes in hard despair, 
 
 An unseen brother soothes and cheers, 
 And baffling every curse with prayer 
 Waits for the peace of tears. 
 
 7. 
 An ocean rich in mystic store 
 
 Foams broad and free for every sail, 
 
 And eager children from the shore 
 
 Launch to the seaward gale. 
 
 8. 
 O'er wistful eyes darkened with awe, 
 
 A seraph bends, mature, benign. 
 Leading from law to higlier law. 
 From sign to higher sign. 
 
 9. 
 
 Thousands of thousands ceaseless glide 
 Li towards a space of chrystal white, 
 A rainbow globe, a boundless tide. 
 Brightening to perfect light.
 
 PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 139 
 
 10. 
 
 A fount with ever widening marge, 
 
 A river broadening to a main, 
 A ceaseless Autumn ripe and large 
 And rich in genial grain. 
 
 11. 
 
 Father and child ! the mist of years 
 
 Floats like a glory round each face, 
 The bitterness of many tears 
 
 Lost in one long embrace ! 
 Each to distincter self defined, 
 Yet opened to a larger sense. 
 Eye piercing eye, mind searching mind, 
 With star-like effluence. 
 
 12. 
 
 A noon of peace ! the summer-bloom 
 
 Of love, without distrust or fear, 
 A Bethany without a tomb ! 
 
 A home without a tear !
 
 140 PICTURES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 13. 
 Oh perfect joy ! oh peerless grace ! 
 
 To see — to hear — the Eternal Word, 
 To gaze at last upon that face, 
 
 For ever with the Lord ! 
 A maniac loathing all and loathed, 
 
 Whose agony no chain could bind. 
 Now at his Saviour's feet and clothed, 
 
 And in his perfect mind : 
 Sphered in a deathless form of light, 
 
 All weight of gladness strongly borne, 
 All calm, no fear, all day, no night, 
 
 One endless Easter morn !
 
 141 
 
 In the holy morning light 
 
 Came a choir of angels bright, 
 
 Ere the rising of the lark, 
 
 When 'twas neither day nor dark, 
 
 And the winds of dawn blew wild, 
 
 They kissed the mother and the child, 
 
 Breathing on the infant's face 
 
 Gentle Avafts of secret grace. 
 
 Then they stilled the beating heart, 
 
 Checking life in every part. 
 
 And with heavenly tenderness 
 
 Eased it from its heaviness : 
 
 Ere the little limbs were cold, 
 
 Lightly did its wings unfold, 
 
 Yearningly it gazed a space 
 
 On that calm unconscious face. 
 
 As if still it could prefer 
 
 Nought in earth or heaven to her.
 
 142 
 
 Passed then with the angels bright 
 Upward through the struggling light ; 
 Then the sleep which on her lay 
 From the mother ebbed away, 
 Eagerly she hushed her breath, 
 Silent — silent — silent death ! 
 Oh ! short bliss ! Oh ! Ions; distress ! 
 Sweeten, Lord ! the bitterness !
 
 U3 
 
 Like a bright vision in the air 
 She filled ov;r gaze, and passed away 
 As quietly as when a star 
 Melts in the gradual dawn of day. 
 
 So near, — but one step intervenes 
 Between her and our warm embrace, 
 So far, — the world and all its scenes 
 Exclude the brightness of her face : 
 
 So near and yet so far ! no sign 
 Of that which in the ambient air, 
 Or in the lines which interline 
 Our range, but purer and more rare, 
 
 Or in the under space involved, 
 
 Below the granite and the fire. 
 
 Weaves all the warp, and doubts are solved 
 
 Which on the surface vex and tire !
 
 144 
 
 Was it not whispered 'neath a palm 
 Of Bethany, where sat the three, 
 Sunk into more delicious calm 
 Than lulls to rest a stormy sea 1 
 
 Or had he learned from fuller truth 
 That it is wiser to be dumb 
 Than mar a history in its youth, 
 By lore of progress yet to come : 
 
 Or did he fear to dim the glow 
 Of ignorant hope and bliss renewed. 
 By witness of the space below 
 And all its awful amplitude, 
 
 The strength and passion of the tide 
 Which rolls its millions from the shore, 
 And ever grows more deep and wide 
 Brighter and darker ever more :
 
 145 
 
 Or was he powerless to unfold 
 God's moral mysteries high and dread, 
 Only in perfect silence told, 
 And to the immaterial dead : 
 
 Or was it all one chrystal thought, 
 Too large, too vital, too intense. 
 To be discerned by souls distraught 
 By gross realities of sense 1 
 
 Or did the heaven of life that poured 
 Abundant o'er his heart and brain, 
 When the deep music of that word 
 Thrilled all the harmonies again, 
 
 Flood every outlet of the past, 
 And drown the accents rising dim 
 From the new world, as in the blast 
 Of some transcendent organ hymn ?
 
 146 
 
 And yet he rose to sigh and weep 
 And saw before him Love in tears : 
 
 Ah ! happier she ! who woke from sleep 
 To perfect love, and free from fears.
 
 TO A. AT SIX MONTHS OLD. IVt 
 
 TO A. AT SIX MONTHS OLD. 
 
 Fairest of wonders ! who art thou 
 That makest all our darkness bright ? 
 
 Last spring we knew thee not, and now, 
 Thy smile is our supreme delight. 
 
 The star that o'er those violet hills 
 At evening lights its quivering fire, 
 
 With not such tempting radiance fills 
 The curious eye Avith strong desire. 
 
 What magnet drew thee downward here ? 
 
 What magic won thee from above ? 
 As bright and gentle as a tear 
 
 Of pity from the eye of love : 
 
 A flower among the rugged rocks, 
 Or silvery foam in Ocean's strife, 
 
 So tender thou among the shocks 
 And all the clumsy cares of life.
 
 148 TO A. AT SIX MONTHS OLD. 
 
 Yet we, who know from bitter years 
 What lies in front, must question still 
 
 How wide thy range of hopes and fears. 
 And what thy quality of will : 
 
 Has it a keen and subtle edge 1 
 
 Or is it of hei'oic grain, 
 To hold on high a priceless pledge, 
 
 And bear it safe through stress and pain 1 
 
 Into thine eyes we wistful look, 
 But cannot stay the wayward flow 
 
 Of soul, which, like the hurrying brook, 
 Will glance and shift and onward go. 
 
 Alas ! the rivulet must flee 
 
 Into that main which sounds afar, 
 
 We stand too low, and only see 
 The surf that chafes along the bar.
 
 IN MEMORY OF S- R. P. 149 
 
 IN MEMOKY OF S. E. P. 
 
 The wind was fair : we put to sea, 
 With hearts and voices full of glee, 
 To wander westward far and free : 
 
 The lark sang near the rising sun, 
 
 Into the morning scarce begun 
 
 The stars Avere dropping one by one : 
 
 And, as we gazed into the blue, 
 Which every moment deeper grew, 
 Winged memories o'er us lightly flew 
 
 With playful rudder like a toy 
 
 We steered our vessels, girl and boy, 
 
 And shouted o'er the waves our joy : 
 
 Or listlessly we watched the clouds 
 Brooding in distant files and crowds, 
 And listened to the thrilling shrouds.
 
 150 IN MEMORY OF S. K. P. 
 
 Sometimes in evening calms there swells 
 
 A sound as if of distant bells ; 
 
 Sweet welcomes are they, or farewells 1 
 
 We know not whence the murmurs roam 
 If issuing from our native home, 
 Or that we seek beyond the foam : 
 
 We listen with an awed surprise, 
 And watch each other's sparkling eyes 
 Till answering tears begin to rise. 
 
 The free sea stretched for ever new, 
 Line beyond line of every hue, 
 To the far verge's richest blue : 
 
 'o"- 
 
 And slowly in the summer air 
 Eose many an island green and fair. 
 And flouting near we lingered there. 
 
 Why are no skies so clear as they. 
 No fields so fresh, no flowers so gay 1 
 Because they long liave passed away :
 
 IN MEMORY OF S. R. P. 151 
 
 Some joy with every moment dies, 
 The sun has set, — he cannot rise 
 So bright to deck to-morrow's skies : 
 
 'Tis but a little space, and yet 
 Our eyes are dim with new regret, 
 Some are not here who saw him set. 
 
 But then, with hearts by grief untried, 
 We bounded o'er the bounding tide. 
 Brother and sister — side by side. 
 
 Her voice so jubilant and clear. 
 Which little children loved to hear, 
 Was sweet from far and sweeter near : 
 
 But sweetest when the storm grew keen, 
 Telling how bright the bow was seen 
 And in the distance blue serene. 
 
 But now I strain my ear in vain, 
 No cry of loneliness or pain 
 Can wake that melody again.
 
 152 IN MEMORY OF S. R. P. 
 
 Sister of every wounded heart 
 Thou well didst learn the sacred art 
 Of comforter, and such thou art ! 
 
 But those dear eyes and placid brow 
 Are gone : we're parted — 1 and thou — 
 'Tis better to be silent now : 
 
 Yet if there be in purer air 
 Where sympathy can lessen care, 
 I know that I shall find thee there — 
 
 An angel from the Eternal Throne 
 To wipe the tear and check the moan, 
 Of those whom others leave alone.
 
 GAKDEN SONNETS.
 
 GARDEN SONNETS. 155 
 
 To change the flinty rock to flowing springs, 
 
 To make the desert blossom as the rose, 
 
 Is Love's own handicraft and his who knows 
 
 What secret melodies the angels' wings 
 
 Can draw from the brute world's unconscious 
 
 strings, 
 And like the first-born heaven- taught gardener 
 Listens and learns to tame the wild and stir 
 The barren soil to fruit of precious things : 
 Therefore bring hither pickaxe, hatchet, spade, 
 Let light in on the dying and the dead, 
 Hew down those ivied trunks and plant instead 
 Prolific trees, let culture crown the glade, 
 The old is good but there 'tis bad to rest, 
 For we must work through better to the best.
 
 156 GARDEN SONNETS. 
 
 II. 
 
 This border which to the early morning lies 
 Shall be your refuge, dear old fashioned flowers ! 
 Which filled with ecstasy my childhood's hours, 
 Sweet-williams in all quaint varieties. 
 Pinks and carnations ; surely such as these. 
 E'er all the beds with foreign blooms were gay, 
 Our great-grand-parents on their wedding day 
 Exchanged with bows and slow civilities : 
 Thus, as the centuries pass, what seemed most fair 
 Of house and board and gentle courtesy 
 And liberal-handed hospitality. 
 Is sold for time and coin, that men may roam, 
 The rare grows common and the common rare, 
 Truth seems too formal and too samely home.
 
 GARDEN SONNETS, 157 
 
 III. 
 
 See on the lawn beneath the walnut's shade 
 Innumerable circles, where the light 
 Passes between the leaves. This mimic night 
 Has constellations of its own, some fade 
 Involved in dim perspective, overlaid, 
 Others are singly perfect, but, Avhate'er 
 The form of the interstice, each must bear 
 The image of the sun. Even thus arrayed 
 In varied fables of antique romance. 
 Unwearied he repeats his wondrous tale — 
 The epic of the day ; and thus my heart 
 Feels in the pathos of each hour Thy part, 
 Eternal Love ! and sees in all, tho' pale. 
 The imaged glory of Thy countenance.
 
 158 GARDEN SONNETS, 
 
 IV. 
 
 As when a man has fixed observant sight 
 
 On beds of bright ranunculus or roses, 
 
 And cools not with heaven's blue his eyes, but 
 
 closes 
 His lids awhile or gazes on pure white, 
 Each colour strangely gives its opposite, 
 For purple now pale yellow, and for green 
 Eed, and for orange, violet is seen ; 
 So when for the last time his eyelids fall. 
 Then instantly these flattering scenes will change 
 Pourtrayed on that strict blackness, or unrolled 
 On truth's unspotted snow, and then to gall 
 Will turn these dainties, and his eye will range 
 'er paltry cheats which glittered once all gold.
 
 GARDEN SONNETS. 159 
 
 Lift then thine eyes and with them lift thy heart 
 
 Up from these fascinations, to that blue 
 
 Where the stars love to move, and whither dew 
 
 Rises with all pure things ! such holy art 
 
 Will keep thy spiritual eye from smart, 
 
 And save thee from the contrasts of despair. 
 
 That is the colour of the vital air 
 
 And of all depths, and in the cleft, where part 
 
 The awful thunder clouds, it promises 
 
 Calm, and from yon thatch rising dark it tells 
 
 Of fireside rest to wearied labour given, 
 
 And on the far-off hills, and on the seas, 
 
 And in the river flowers and coppice bells. 
 
 Of hope, of home, of distance and of heaven.
 
 160 GARDEN SONNETS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE EOSE. 
 
 Flower of flowers ! Behold how beautiful 
 
 In unity for brethren thus to dwell ! 
 
 Each fold diverse, in each one perfect rule, 
 
 Agreed one parable of love to tell. 
 
 All rapt in one celestial reverie, 
 Folding and cherishing one central well 
 
 Of health and odour, life and harmony ! 
 
 Emblem of that which is the only One 
 
 111 this divided world, in thee I see 
 
 The court imperial of the Eternal Son, 
 
 Wet with the tears of His redeeming smart. 
 
 The faithful concourse bending round the throne, 
 
 The close embrace of each enclasping part 
 
 Yearning to gaze into His open heart.
 
 GARDEN SONNETS. IGl 
 
 VII. 
 THE LILY. 
 
 Fair Lily, white as that auspicious wing 
 
 Which signed that the world's flood began to 
 
 cease, 
 
 Emblem of perfect law and perfect peace ! 
 
 Meet sceptre for the hand of Christ the King, 
 
 Wlien on His great white throne o'er every thing 
 
 He reigns supreme and loves all heart to rest, 
 
 Thy fragrant blossoms, north, south, east and west, 
 
 Thy crowning buds and trinal secrets bring 
 
 A promise of that strong untroubled reign 
 
 When this well-balanced sphere at last thro' space 
 
 Subdued to faultless harmony shall roll 
 
 In time with the world's pulse, and every soul 
 
 Odorous of joy be ruled without a stain 
 
 Of partial difference in God's threefold grace. 
 
 L
 
 162 GARDEN SONNETS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ah ! meddling wind ! one moment's vain caprice 
 
 Has snapped the fairest bud of j^onder bower, 
 
 There Hope stood tiptoe, waiting till the hour 
 
 Of labour's languishing last pulse should cease 
 
 And perfect beauty born of perfect peace 
 
 Should kindle, and reveal a ruby spark 
 
 Of life eternal in this outer dark. 
 
 How shall I fitly mourn that sad decease 1 
 
 I cannot, for I needed l)ut the sight 
 
 Of that rose full lilown to mature a strain 
 
 Of festive gladness, but a sudden blight 
 
 Has now turned all my joy to angry pain : 
 
 I will not mourn, but into this my song 
 
 Transform tliy beauty to revenge the wrong.
 
 GARDEN SONNETS. 163 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE AVENUE. 
 
 Would'st thou of holy Quiet be the guest 1 
 Pace here with upraised eyes and noiseless feet 
 Where those eternal arches rise and meet 
 Which taught the sph-itual Goth how best 
 To lodge the Unbounded ! here in awful quest 
 Of light in the light of God, undimmed, unstained, 
 Thy spirit mounts, led upward yet restrained. 
 Thus far, no farther ; shade thine eyes and rest 
 One silent hour ; for here thou must not stay, 
 The sun is high, the world is rolling east, 
 All things are changing, thou too must away 
 And call the famine-stricken to the feast 
 And save the dying wretch, ere sinks the day, 
 Abandoned by the Levite and the Priest.
 
 RIVER SONNETS.
 
 RIVER SONNETS. 1G7 
 
 RIVER SONNETS. 
 
 Stay not fair river, in that lustrous height 
 Those uplands bare of homes and scant of men, 
 Where by the heron's nest and fox's den 
 Thou lingerest like a saint severe and bright 
 In solitude nor knowest the delight 
 Of happy voices in the busy vale : 
 There is less music in the mountain gale, 
 Less beauty in the unbroken arch of light, 
 Than in the low complaint of human love 
 And sloping cottage roofs staining the sky : 
 Fulfil thy law ! from high to lower move ! 
 Like the great Father who comes down to lie 
 In the dust with all, and sends His brooding dove 
 To own the meanest men that sin and die.
 
 1G8 RIVER SONNETS. 
 
 II. 
 
 While on this placid sabbath morn God's rest 
 
 Keeps the world breathless and this broad expanse 
 
 Untroubled, from the surface meets my glance 
 
 Immediate, asking no laborious quest, 
 
 The vast abyss of ether manifest. 
 
 Faint streaks of cloud and behind them the sky. 
 
 How close and yet how far beneath my eye ! 
 
 Which gazing downward so can scan them best. 
 
 Thus from Thy spirit whither can I flee 
 
 Thou ever present ? to my inmost sense 
 
 I find Thee nearest, and reflected there 
 
 Untravelled depths of moral mystery : 
 How clear will be the glass, and how intense 
 The calm reflex in heaven's unclouded air !
 
 RIVER SONNETS. 169 
 
 III. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A BACKWATER. 
 
 Steer thither, let us see, if she permit 
 
 Sweet Nature in her idle mood, and linger 
 
 Amid this maze, where her fantastic finger 
 
 Has woven bough with bough, and watch her wit 
 
 Flash frolic contrasts : see that ripple, lit 
 
 With sunshine dancing through the moving leaves ! 
 
 There floats the lonely moor-hen, and there cleaves 
 
 Yon sombre pool the king-fisher, with flit 
 
 And plunge that startles all the various greens, 
 
 To interchange of clear-obscure reflections : 
 
 Such variegated life no brush can paint, 
 
 N o poet suit with fancies or affections : 
 
 Yet what a private awe lives in these scenes ! 
 
 Is Nature here our playmate or God's saint 1
 
 170 RIVER SONNETS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 On the bridge-rail she leans and gazes down 
 
 Into the lock : what sees she ? clouds and sky 
 
 And her own face, but memory's faithful eye 
 
 Sees beside her's another's face all brown 
 
 With honest labour not in the narrow town 
 
 But by the river side in forest ways, 
 
 And wistful eyes meeting her bashful gaze : 
 
 A step ! 'tis light and firm — no stupid clown 
 
 Or tripping girl — she will hold tight the bar, 
 
 Perhaps again, as once, his eyes will peer 
 
 Over her shoulder and again he'll press 
 
 For the answer which will reach so far — so far- 
 
 Into eternity : Oh ! silly tear ! 
 
 He comes, 'tis he — what answer 1 no or yes ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 173 
 
 I. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN BROOK. 
 
 Ah! whither wanderest thou, said I, sweet stream 
 Wilt thou leave me and this full blown array 
 Of heath and flowers all glowing with the day ? 
 Hast thou grown weary of the cloudless gleam, 
 And art thou stealing hence to sleep and dream 
 Of the pure height and ever-stainless snow, 
 The home of silence, whence thy waters flow 1 
 The brook replied, I am not what I seem, 
 I am the spirit of poor Charity : 
 It was not for myself I sought the light, 
 I go to flash it through that dark ravine 
 And wake its wondering echoes with my glee, 
 I only take to give, 'tis my delight 
 Unknown to gladden, and to sing unseen.
 
 174 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 11. 
 
 TO M. Y. 
 
 I KNEW not at the first how great delight 
 From the calm Bethlehem of thy cradle flowed, 
 But when the next sweet April breathed and 
 
 glowed, 
 My loved first-born ! to my love-cleansed sight 
 The whole fresh year appeared all dewy bright, 
 Like dawn among the mountains undefiled 
 As yet by clouds ; and when the wistful child 
 Gazed forth, I felt a new transforming might ; 
 Each rosebud seemed to me a fount of life. 
 Each star an opening into endless heaven : 
 And well the promise of thy early hours 
 Thou hast redeemed, well thuu hast loved the 
 
 flowers, 
 And grown to bless, 'mid blessings asked and given, 
 From child to maid, from maid to wedded wife.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 175 
 
 III. 
 
 TO S. M. L. T. 
 
 When into those mysterious eyes of thine 
 
 I gaze, or watch intent thy ready hand 
 
 Raise from the canvas, as with magic wand, 
 
 The shapes which in thy peopled fancy shine, 
 
 As swift as love can trace them, line on line, 
 
 I feel like one who sits as if asleep 
 
 On a sea rock and looks into the deep. 
 
 And in the restless homes of chrystal brine 
 
 Sees a quaint paradise of graceful forms, 
 
 'Mid ever-changing, ever- waving weeds : 
 
 Whence came the tide which wafted here their 
 
 seeds 1 
 From what strange gulf swam forth those playful 
 
 swarms ? 
 The rich sea takes no heed of praise or blame, 
 But works on free and lovingly the same.
 
 176 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 IV. 
 ON THE DEATH OF S. T. 
 
 Into his garden, at the break of day, 
 To cull riiJB fruit and floAvers his intent, 
 With eyes down-gazing the beloved went, 
 And step that crushed no blossom by the way ; 
 There was the rose full-blown, and there the may. 
 The blade, the ear, the full ripe waving corn, 
 But none of these he plucked that early morn, 
 Nor eased the vine with glowing clusters bent : 
 Sudden he stopped, and, taking gentle heed, 
 He plucked a budding lily, which indeed 
 Made the stem weep and sister-buds half fade. 
 But on the plant, which too profuse did bleed. 
 He dropped a tear and rich atonement made.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 177 
 
 V. 
 
 A CHILD stood gazing seaward from the strand, 
 Her hair and clothes dishevelled by the wind, 
 That untired traveller, which, pleased to find 
 So sweet a stranger in the unknown land. 
 Kissed her all over, face and neck and hand : 
 She heeded not, for she had slipped away 
 And left her fellows in a grove at play 
 Drawn by strong impulse to the tide-worn sand, 
 And stood there waiting, motionless and dumb. 
 Nor heard the waves nor wind nor harps of gold : 
 Voices of earth were sounding in her ears, 
 And she saw faces pale and stained with tears 
 And her heart swelled with memories of old : 
 She spake not, but her eager eyes said, " Come ! " 
 
 M
 
 1 78 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A LITTLE BABE. 
 
 O GENTLE hand, that let the wanderer fly, 
 The soft wliite dove from out its ark of peace ! 
 She looked along the waters but could spy 
 No quiet haven where the tempests cease, 
 And listened but could hear no interval. 
 Through all the constant tumult of the storm, 
 Nothing but moans and ceaseless rise and fall 
 Of billows. Gracious hand, that meant no harm 
 And stayed there at the window, till the dove — 
 My little soft white dove, that could not find 
 Silence and rest like that she'd left behind. 
 Flew back, nor cared for all my foolish love, 
 That wooed her to stay here with pain and sin, 
 crentle hand that took the wanderer in !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 179 
 
 VII. 
 1. 
 
 Once by a broad and visionary stream 
 With eager crowds it was my wont to stand 
 Gazing as if in a confused dream, 
 Where, from its misty springs, by shores of sand 
 The downward current rolled, and in the gleam 
 Of noonday glistened like a polished shield ; 
 But while for some substantial good we sought. 
 Those dark deceitful waters did not yield 
 Ought but loud noise, yet, though from far away 
 A sweet sea-sound was by the breezes brought, 
 From that mysterious shore I could not stray, 
 Held by a charm, till disappointment wrought 
 A frenzy in me, and each empty day 
 Rose glared and vanished like an anxious tliought.
 
 180 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 2. 
 
 Now, on the white sands of a stormless sea, 
 With spirits calm as its untroubled tide, 
 1 watch the shadows of the evening flee 
 Chasing the morning sungleams, satisfied 
 That o'er those sparkling waters speedily 
 Tlic quivering lines of each impatient hour 
 Should pass, till swells that ocean's pregnant core, 
 And leaps to light a day of mystic power, 
 liising in terrible chrystal from the spray 
 Of that wide sea which ripples every shore : 
 Then in fair company in bright array 
 I tVi>m these sands shall glide, and evermore 
 Sit at His feet who, up the rocky way 
 And on the cross, my sin and sorrow bore.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. l8l 
 
 IX. 
 ENCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 Where'er in this wide world I cast my eyes, 
 Amid the weary whirl and hurrying throng, 
 I see some pledge of that for which I long, 
 Some soothing promise of the rest which lies 
 In that far land where nought but sorrow dies ; 
 And each sweet scene or sound is as a seed 
 Sown in my heart, which yet no idle weed 
 May yield some goodly fruit of Paradise. 
 Amid the talk of crowds a word of love. 
 In scenes of sin an eye which looks away, 
 Such are sweet signs of promise from above, 
 White banners gleam 'mid battle's red array. 
 Athwart the night some rays of morning move, 
 And love's aurora lightnings pass and play.
 
 182 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Seeking for freedom, careless as the wind, 
 I wandered far among the desolate rocks, 
 And upward roamed to where the shaggy flocks 
 Of the wild goats their mountain pasture find, 
 I climbed the granite precipice, and blind 
 Hung on the ramparts over which the storm 
 Gushes in thunder ; scarce my trembling form 
 Could o'er the jagged slippery ledges wind. 
 " Ah ! Lord, if thou wert here !" said I : He came. 
 A great way off I knew Him by His cross : 
 He came and touched me, silent and in shame 
 I followed : soon among the flowers and moss 
 Here in the vale I walk restored, nor fear 
 Yon dark ravine if only He be near.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 183 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh ! men of God ! the world is growing old, 
 
 She weaves strange riddles in her wrinkled age, 
 
 One name resolves them on the sacred page ! 
 
 Her time is short, for she is weak and cold. 
 
 And like a miser mutters o'er her gold ; 
 
 Ye have the new life burning in your hearts, 
 
 Away with bland reserve and craven arts, 
 
 Away with vile expediency, be bold ! 
 
 Tell forth with stern and unrelenting voice 
 
 God's truth in clear intelligible words ; 
 
 Wild beasts will roar and all ill-omened birds 
 
 Will answer with an execrable noise, 
 
 But truth drowns falsehood, hark, her echo fills 
 
 The holy sky from the eternal hills !
 
 184 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XTI. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE IN 
 EARLY SPEING. 
 
 This sabbath morn I have been walking forth 
 
 To catch the freshness of the flowing wind, 
 
 The spirit of spring hath breathed upon the earth 
 
 A living liberty which none can bind, 
 
 A bursting of sweet bloom, a laying bare 
 
 Of infant l)eauty, but the leaves as yet 
 
 And wayside flowers are sleeping and forget 
 
 That there is warmth and pleasure in the air ; 
 
 But though the groves and woodlands be not green, 
 
 The birds are all in rapture of full song, 
 
 The nightingale her music pours along 
 
 The listening wind, and thus she sings, I ween, 
 
 " God's spring shall come, and summer too, though 
 
 late. 
 All shall be well to those who trust and wait."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 185 
 
 XIIL 
 
 TO THE ODOURLESS VIOLET. 
 
 Poor scentless floAver ! by me alone admired ! 
 In vain, when genial Spring's rich dews distil, 
 And young May's sweet surprises wake and fill 
 The budding groves with music long desired, — 
 In vain thou seekest each contrasting hue, 
 Primrose and moss and starflower waving high, — 
 In vain to catch and stay the wandering eye 
 Wooest the heavens to deepen that sweet blue, 
 Thou dost but call to mind the luscious scent 
 Thy colour promises, the hand of scorn 
 With careless touch disdains thee, dropt or rent ; 
 Return to thy humility forlorn ! 
 And seek no gaudier charm than to present 
 Rare grace of suffering love and scorned content.
 
 186 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 TO THE AVEST WIND. 
 
 Hail ! soothing spirit of the balmy west ! 
 
 Gentle magician ! angel of the spring ! 
 
 AVhen the calm winnowing of thy downy wing 
 
 Wakens the boughs of every woodland nest, 
 
 To mild unquiet more like graceful rest, 
 
 The buds begin to feel the ambitious life 
 
 Of beauty struggling with impatient strife 
 
 III the dark foldings of each downy breast 
 
 Yearning to be revealed, nor only there 
 
 But in the human heart thy spell sweet dreams 
 
 Awakes, and, from the clouds where anxious care 
 
 Long fixed her melancholy gaze, there gleams 
 
 A gentle glow of promise, and the air 
 
 With many a " dainty Ariel's " music teems.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 181 
 
 XV. 
 
 TINTERN ABBEY. 
 
 Beside the lone church, like a sentinel, 
 
 Stands the dark pine, and over mossy tiles 
 
 And through the glassless windows down green 
 
 aisles 
 The sunlight flickers, as the breezes swell 
 And sink more solemn than a distant bell. 
 Rousing far-hiding echoes of deep sighs 
 Sent from dark hearts and low sobbed litanies 
 In old dead times of sorrow, when the knell 
 Sounded above of friends or hopes. The sod 
 Beneath is sown with tears. Surely from hence 
 Wander the Silences and Fears which throng 
 The lonely hill tops, and from hence the song 
 Which haunts the rivulets in wooded glens, 
 And here praise ever waits for Thee, God !
 
 188 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD. 
 
 1. 
 
 No flowers are fairer than that infant's eyes, 
 As gazing upwards on his mother's face 
 He stands, enchanted by the modest grace 
 Which on her serious brow unconscious lies ; 
 Truth, as her accents flow, without disguise 
 Burns Hke the glory in the holy place, 
 And he, a cherub in the inner space, 
 Adores in awful joy and mute surprise : 
 Alas ! thy heart will ne'er again stand still 
 In front of heavenly truth, until the dream 
 Of life be fading and its follies wrecked, 
 Then, like the quiet fount whence flowed the rill, 
 Shall lie all level to the light the stream 
 Ere it plunge down the sudden cataract.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 189 
 
 XVII. 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD. 
 
 2. 
 
 That cottage door no blushing roses grace, 
 No wandering honeysuckle clothes its walls, 
 But wait, and listen to the voice which calls, 
 And the low answer from the narrow place ! 
 In its small room a boundless love finds space 
 For ecstasy not Handel could express : 
 And softness which Coreggio's tenderness 
 Never suffused around Madonna's face 
 Finds a fit utterance in the murmured tone 
 Which has no meaning to our ears — beguiled 
 By the world's falsehood — ^jarred by cry and groun 
 From the world's tumult. In the undefiled 
 Language of nature commune here alone, 
 Like wind and sea, a mother and her child.
 
 190 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 WRITTEN DURING AN ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS. 
 
 Oh ! guilty earth ! thou art a careless mother ! 
 A curse lies heavy on thee. Wild and bright 
 In all thy jewels thou dancest through the night, 
 But I could better love red Mars thy brother 
 Venus or Mercury or any other 
 Of lighter conscience. Though thou art so bold, 
 Thou art afraid sometimes when the moon, cold 
 And silent, watches thee. Canst thou not smother 
 Thy envious rage 1 take heed : give it not way. 
 Or 'twill burst forth and God will let it burn, 
 For nought but fire can tame thee : in that day 
 Perhaps thy heart will to thy children turn. 
 What hast thou given tliem but grass and stones 1 
 And nothing shalt thou have but dust and bones.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 191 
 
 XIX. 
 
 TO PLINY. 
 
 1. 
 
 Purest and gentlest of the Eomans, thee 
 
 I ofttimes call up willingly before 
 
 My fancy's eye as if in memory, 
 
 Dear Pliny ! pacing the Laurentine shore 
 
 And listening with white soul from passion free 
 
 To that great master of the calm and good, 
 
 That best philosopher — wise Solitude, 
 
 Who loves to walk by the suggestive sea : 
 
 Or bending o'er some fevered slave with voice 
 
 Made kindly by the soothing influence 
 
 Of the low wind upon the lonely beach. 
 
 Or pleading for the right amid the noise 
 
 Of crowded courts with that heart eloquence 
 
 Which quiet communings with nature teach.
 
 192 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XX. 
 
 TO PLINY. 
 
 2. 
 
 Oh ! lover of the true ! hater of lies ! 
 
 Oh ! just and gracious friend ! oh ! faithful heart ! 
 
 How did thine inward ear not recognize 
 
 That voice sublime which owns the central part 
 
 Of every noble utterance of the wise 
 
 And every prophecy of wind and wave, 
 
 That solemn day when the Bithynian slave 
 
 liaised from the fiery rack her patient eyes, 
 
 And, while her careless listeners gave no sign, 
 
 Told how imperial Goodness once came down 
 
 Vnnu heaven to love and die in Palestine ? 
 
 Long since, I trust, with harp and martyr's crown 
 
 She has led thee to her smiling Lord and thine : 
 
 One saint, be sure, — good Gregory — did not frown !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 193 
 
 XXI. 
 THE DIVINE PICTURE. 
 
 Xay, go not up so close, 'tis better here 
 To stand and view the picture, now we see 
 The motive of the artist, broad and free 
 His pencil swept from first to last, nor near 
 Did he intend the critic's eye should peer, 
 Carping at parts, but from a distance view, 
 And finally that subtle feature drew 
 Which mocks the coarser judgment and make.> 
 
 clear 
 The sense to finer qualities of soul. 
 And thus God paints a life, from the first breath, 
 Love, labour, pain, obstruction, tears that fall 
 From long forgotten eyes, loss, triumph, all, 
 He broadly works, and blends into one Avht)le 
 By the last slow* decisive touch of death. 
 
 N
 
 194 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 PERFECT SONSHIR 
 
 1. 
 Sons were they but they knew it not, so cold 
 Towards their genuine home tlieir hearts hud 
 
 grown, 
 And so the eldest son went forth alone, 
 To draw the sheep to the deserted fold. 
 First with a brother's guile gentle and bold 
 He won them to himself. With Him to live 
 Seemed all that man could want and God could 
 
 give. 
 No story like his life had e'er been told, 
 No voice been heard so lowly, so sublime, 
 Such greatness greater than their human heart. 
 Love making true eternity in time 
 And endlessness in space, so that to part 
 From him would be unutterable crime 
 Or the worst wound of despair's keenest dart I
 
 S'ISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 195 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 2. 
 
 Then told he plainly all his great intent : 
 
 First he had conquered, sajdng, " I am he," 
 
 Then — " Father, I in them and Thou in me." 
 
 The perfect Son and perfect Brother sent 
 
 To win them to their Father, given not lent. 
 
 That free and fearless, they might yearn to see 
 
 Their Father's face in peace and ever be 
 
 In that eternal home to which He went : 
 
 That voice once heard they never ceased to hear, 
 
 In tearful farewells by the sad sea-shore, 
 
 Or in deep prisons by the mountain lake, 
 
 Or in the lonely wilderness of fear. 
 
 Or on the rack, or at the fiery stake. 
 
 Their only hope to hear that voice once more !
 
 196 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 EASTWARD. 
 
 Truth, on the wings of morning glad and free, 
 
 Eastward, while yet 'tis dark, delights to glide, 
 
 To meet the freshness of the rising tide ; 
 
 What though she mark the olive-margined sea 
 
 Grow darker as the twilight vapours flee 1 
 
 O'er it she knows will break victorious fire, 
 
 And, landward, strike the gloom from roof and 
 
 spire, 
 Till life and gladness steal o'er hill and lea ! 
 Thus watch the blessed from their height of rest 
 Mist after mist of error upward drawn, 
 Tliey fear not, for they know the world is won. 
 Therefore gaze eastward, toward the rising sun. 
 For heaven, the home of love, is in the east. 
 The eternal east, the fount of every dawn.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 197 
 
 XXV. 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 The cherub clouds crowd round the dying day, 
 Snow-white, save where soft yellow flushes rise 
 And hide them into glory from our eyes ; 
 They seem with folded wings to watch and pray, 
 While toward the azure east we haste away 
 And plunge into the new and chilly night. 
 Careless of solemn evening's waning light. 
 The casements close, the children leave their play. 
 Each bends the knee beside his lowly bed 
 And sanctifies with prayer the eventide. 
 Now as we turn to gaze, the last dim red 
 With all the angel watchers seems to glide 
 Into far heaven. Alas ! the day is dead ! 
 And we knew not 'twas holy till it died.
 
 198 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Under the moon the city lies asleep, 
 
 And round it slumber twice ten thousand foes, 
 
 And Avhere last noon the hideous clamour rose 
 
 Of deadly conflict up that rugged steep 
 
 Where the breach opens, and deep answered deep 
 
 Of human hate more hungry than the sea, 
 
 Through the broad calm, o'er bannered tower and 
 
 tree, 
 The aimless airs of midnight slowly creep. 
 That was man's day, but this is God's dear night : 
 We grudge to spare each moment as it flios, 
 But heaven intrudes its hours ; man cannot cheat 
 The eternal patience. In the fading light 
 God comes and folds our hands, and shuts our eyes, 
 And gently lays us prostrate at His feet.
 
 MISCELLANEOU S SON NETS. 1 9 9 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 Art thou the day, the new born day, gray morn, 
 
 The living day that maketh all things clear? 
 
 Will the lark greet thee 1 Will the wakened deer 
 
 Bound from the fern ? Surely in silent scorn 
 
 The woods will hush their voices, nor be born 
 
 Into fair flowers the buds of yesterday. 
 
 The dews will lie where all night long they lay, 
 
 Nor juices ripen in the slumbering corn. 
 
 Oh ! foolish timorous fancies ! for I know 
 
 That nothing can withstand thee, — the Divine ! 
 
 Hail to thee ! Thou and victory are one ! 
 
 When life and light come, death and darkness go, 
 
 Xor will God let a lesser glory shine, 
 
 Xot moon, nor stars, only the Almighty sun.
 
 200 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 ABRAHAM AND LOT. 
 
 One chose the emerald pastures ripe and deep, 
 Well watered everywhere like Paradise, 
 Sheltered all round and fenced from rude surprise. 
 Where all his herds might safely browse and sleep, 
 And he — the shepherd — watch mild evening creep 
 Over soft slopes and on the mountains glow : 
 He sees not the curse gathering far below, 
 Nor far above sad angels frown and Aveep : 
 Not so the man of God, hope-rich, faith-free. 
 He chose the upland heights and bracing downs. 
 Breeze-swept, sun-travelled, bare to ocean-showers, 
 And saw far generations crowd the sea 
 With swelling sails and clothe with populous towns 
 The savage wolds and crown tlie rocks with towers.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 201 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 BARTIMEUS. 
 
 Blind Bartimeus by the Jordan's side, 
 
 Sat musing in the shadow of a palm, 
 
 Though poor yet rich in many thoughts and calm, 
 
 Silent he listened to the rippling tide, 
 
 Reasoning within, at last he oj)ened wide 
 
 His si^eculative eyes, empty of sight, 
 
 And said, "men cheat themselves, there is no light, 
 
 'Tis but a name, a name and nought beside." 
 
 His little grandchild laughed in sudden glee, 
 
 " Oh blessed light ! See how it sparkles there ! " 
 
 At eve he stood before the Christ in prayer, 
 
 "What wilt thou ?"—" Lord, I Avill that I may 
 
 see," 
 And from that face a quiet glory stole 
 Into his boundless inner world of soul.
 
 202 JIISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 TO MRS. G. 
 
 As once, at crimson prime of dewy May, 
 Thy Edmund feebly paced in tlioughtful mood 
 Where death and hope in holy concord brood, 
 From the green churchyard-graves that round him 
 
 lay 
 He raised his solemn brow, and cheerful day 
 Gushed on his eye, and garden field and wood 
 Rang with impetuous joy, the wild lark wooed 
 The fresh sea-wind high in the chequered gray : 
 A sudden doubt seemed o'er his soul to fling 
 A shade, he paused and i)ointed ; " Lay me there 
 As near as may be to God's liglit and air ! " 
 Faith is not siglit ! Yet his was strong to bring 
 From heaven a calm alike o'er joy and care. 
 O'er Autumn Summer, and o'er Winter Spring.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 203 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 When jarred by some new stroke of reckless fate, 
 Or pierced by poisoned words, or stung by lies, 
 Or, which is worst, eyed coldly by the wise, 
 Or, which is easier borne, defied by hate, 
 
 Or, which is least, derided by the great, 
 
 I shrink and stand beyond the envious bound. 
 
 And see the world complete its usual round 
 
 And, without me, extol its rich estate : 
 
 Then do I throw my lonely soul abroad 
 
 In awful pity on that boundless scope 
 
 In which men's words and thouirhts and aims 
 
 are lost. 
 My love has more of faith though less of hope. 
 My prospect is too large to count its cost, 
 I venture self for all and all for God.
 
 204 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 My muse, I fear, is shy and country-bred, 
 For, when I wish to walk in towns and learn 
 What eager thoughts and fiery passions burn 
 In men who throng the market-place, or tread 
 Dark streets where love is faint and hope is dead, 
 She whispers sly excuses of — not yet 
 For I have that to say I may forget — 
 Or — that which never yet was fully said : 
 And so she leads -with bright mysterious looks 
 Down to the waters of some mossy hollow 
 Where rocks that interrupt the bickering brooks 
 Make solitudes — what can I do but follow 1 
 And there she sings so sweetly and su long 
 I fall to dreaming and forget her song.
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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 1966 
 
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