THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 FIDELIS 
 
 AND OTHER POEIVIS.
 
 FI D ELIS 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 C. M. GEMMER 
 
 WESTMINSTER 
 
 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & Co. 
 
 1897-
 
 
 TO 
 
 CHARLES WOOD, ESQ., 
 
 IN REMEMBRANCE OF MANY KINDNESSES 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED. 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The motive of this book is the poem of "FideHs." If 
 I could have placed that poem in a high-class magazine 
 this little volume would probably never have seen the 
 light. Failing to do so, and having survived nearly every 
 friend and relative of my own generation, literary or 
 otherwise, likely to welcome, or forward the fortunes of 
 my little work, I trust I may be excused if 1 make a 
 few quotations from letters received from some of our 
 most distinguished recent poets, (whether known or un- 
 known to me personally) who have all since then "Crossed 
 the Bar." I will begin with the opinion of the late Mr. 
 Robert Browning, at whose door, 19 Warwick Crescent, 
 I left "Fidelis," at the suggestion of my friend, the late 
 Mr. Coventry Patmore, who said the poem would be a 
 sufficient introduction. In a few days I received a letter, 
 in which after apologising for delay, Mr. Browning writes 
 Feb. 29th, 1882 : — 
 
 "This morning, however, I read your poem of 'Fidelis,' 
 and I can truly say with great pleasure indeed. The 
 subject of it would excuse even indifferent poetical treat- 
 ment, but you seem to me to have written a really 
 beautiful poem, quite independently of the circumstance 
 which occasioned it, touching as that assuredly is. I am 
 happy to associate myself with two such eminent poets * 
 as the friends you mention, in a sincere appreciation of 
 the beauty as well as the feeling of ' Fidelis.' 
 
 "Believe me, dear Madam, 
 
 "Yours very faithfully, 
 
 "Robert Browning." 
 
 Mr. Patmore himself wrote characteristically, concluding 
 his remarks by— "The fault of the poem is that it is too 
 good, what have you left for higher shrines?" I might 
 ■•■■ Matthew Arnold and Miss Rossetti.
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 have replied in the eloquent words of Dr. Chalmers on 
 the same subject, in which he reminds us that Christianity 
 itself is based on the " descending current of love and 
 liberality" from the higher to the lower, and asks: 
 "Whence have we learned this attitude of lofty unconcern 
 about the creatures that are beneath us?" My friend, the 
 late Miss Christina Rossetti, writes thus: —"Thank you 
 for the beautiful poem of poems, beautiful beyond my 
 anticipations " —for she also demurs a little "to the pomp 
 of love lavished on any non-human friend," but adds, 
 "that has nothing to do with the literary question of 
 beauty." The late Matthew Arnold, to whom I sent 
 "Fidelis" though quite a stranger to me, did what he 
 could to get it placed in a high-class magazine, but failing 
 after several attempts — one Editor accepting only to 
 decline, enclosing a proof sheet and commendations — 
 wrote to me kindly, regretting his failure, and adds, "I 
 am interested in your verses, because they seem to me 
 to show refined feeling, and an affectionate study of 
 Wordsworth." To this I cannot lay claim, though, as a 
 child, I took great delight in that poet's earlier and 
 rhymed works, and no doubt was unconsciously a gainer 
 thereby. The lines entitled "A Reverie," which appeared 
 in the "Argosy," were honoured by a quotation in the 
 "Evening Standard," April 2nd, 1879, as containing " fine 
 poetic thoughts." 
 
 AVhatever may be the fate of this little volume, I do 
 not think I should have summoned courage to break a 
 silence of so many years but that I chanced to come 
 across Mr. Ruskin's definition of a true book, pp. 17 and 
 18 of "Sesame and Lihes," and those sympathetic and 
 inspiring words, so expressive of my own convictions as 
 regards the poem of "Fidelis," decided me not to let 
 my " piece of true knowledge, or sight, or helpful beauty, 
 which my share of sunshine and earth has permitted 
 me to seize," — die with me, without at least, making an 
 effort to perpetuate it, with, perhaps a few more of these 
 poems,— in the world of poetic life and thought.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 IFidelis i 
 
 A Reverie 20 
 
 Sunrise and Sunset 27 
 
 The Convent Garden 28 
 
 IHic Jacet 31 
 
 Babyland 34 
 
 Not by her Sunbeams 40 
 
 lExiled 42 
 
 iBitter Words 44 
 
 iBird Visits 47 
 
 Snow in April 50 
 
 Memory 52 
 
 A Lodge in a Garden of Cucumbers 56 
 
 Song 68 
 
 Looking back 71 
 
 Kingswear 74 
 
 A May Meeting 76 
 
 Song 81 
 
 Violets 82
 
 XII CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Winter Views of Summer Lands 85 
 
 I sighed for Love 89 
 
 No Land have I 91 
 
 Sonnet -93 
 
 Song 94 
 
 The Question 96
 
 FIDELIS 
 
 In memory of a little dog, zvho died Nov. 2gth, 
 1866, during the three days' absence of the 
 
 writer. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye that have trained some little foreign flower 
 About a low south wall, where early shines 
 The sun, and lingers long, and late declines, 
 Tending and nurturing from hour to hour 
 Bud, leaf, and tendril, till a latent power 
 Is stirred within, outrunning your designs
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 To hang fair fruitage under lighted leaves, 
 Purpling the glow of summer's golden eves :— 
 Ye that have nursed, and, when it was full grown, 
 Pulling the wall down, bid it stand alone,— 
 If it should fall to earth amid a shower 
 Of crumbling bricks and heavy crashing stone, 
 Broken and soiled, and all the pleasant bower 
 Wither in wind and sunshine, nay,— what then? 
 For pity would ye plead with Heaven or men? 
 T' wards such my spirit turns since,— woe the day!- 
 I loosed the wall, my pretty flower to slay.
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 II. 
 
 A dear dumb friend in crowded city pent 
 I carried, ere the winter frosts took wing, 
 That he might gambol with the lambs of Spring, 
 Chasing the April light that came and went; 
 So runs a little cloud with fire besprent. 
 Across the fields of heaven, to meet the sun : 
 So leaps the weanling fawn when day is done. 
 With gay goodwill and frolic blandishment: 
 But who unto his own had learned to cling 
 More closely than the bole of yonder beech 
 Is circled by the ivy's sevenfold ring: — 
 Too like the ivy, when, with fibres rent, 
 It flutters in the wind far out of reach 
 Of friend or stranger, good or ill intent 1
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 III. 
 
 Methinks the gifts of Heaven are lightly lent,— 
 
 Too lightly given, or recalled too soon: 
 
 A tricksy spirit from beyond the moon 
 
 So came to comfort me in banishment; 
 
 A shadow dancing over sunny ways. 
 
 He skimmed the field and lapped the running rill, 
 
 Or slumbered at my feet when rains were chill, 
 
 Fair, as a little cloud the dawn inlays. 
 
 I gave him love, caresses of the lip, 
 
 Food, freedom, warmth, and gay companionship. 
 
 What could I more? Alas! the claims are hard 
 
 That rise, like spectres, from the soft green sward. 
 
 Where lie the tender creatures of our will, 
 
 Whose fate was in our keeping— good or ill.
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hark! from the May-bush birds a welcome sing 
 Over their new-born young, and bees embrown 
 The milk-white blossoms, murmuring up and down; 
 \Vith such content as heat and fragrance bring 
 I pace the sunny garden and rejoice: 
 But once my joy took colour with the spring, — 
 A wave to kiss my feet with rapturous choice, 
 A shadow at my side, a snowy flame, 
 For ever veering as I went and came, 
 A heart to love responsive, and a voice! 
 Heaven blest it with its smile in sun and shade; 
 But earth— whose coverts thrill to gun and snare, 
 Whose cherished blossoms are the first to fade. 
 Whose nests are downiest when death is there,—
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 Earth, mourning mother! trembled at the stir 
 
 Of its light feet careering over her, 
 
 And mateless wood-doves mourned within the bowers: 
 
 Heaven blest it with its love— but all fell powers 
 
 Pursued it, as a hunter tracks a hare:— 
 
 So bright about it burned love's atmosphere 
 
 As nearer drew the end— not all unfelt— 
 
 It seemed a thing to-morrow's sun might melt, 
 
 Or a wind wither, or a frost congeal, 
 
 Too full of life to live, too quick to feel, 
 
 And died— my summer joy!— before the year.
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 V. 
 
 No swallow-flash across the sultry blue, 
 
 Or shadow of a flying cloud unnoted, 
 
 He leapt for frolic anger, noisy-throated, 
 
 And chased the voiceless phantoms out of view, 
 
 The green earth lightened under him, and drew 
 
 The winged picture fair in watery glass, 
 
 And dreamed of the old days when pleasure was, 
 
 And all the poesy of life was new. 
 
 The waters widened and the soft wind blew 
 
 For him,— that lusty little forest god! 
 
 Whose fiery gambols did enchant the sod, 
 
 And o'er the woe-worn earth such glamour threw, 
 
 Making her dustiest path an alleyed way 
 
 To the dim woods,— most luminously dim!
 
 FIDELIS 
 
 Where nymphs and flower-crowned fauns keep hoUday, 
 
 And naiads whisper at the fountain's brim, — 
 
 Fresh-bubbhng through the moss-grown caves of old, 
 
 Dark with the hue of roses manifold, 
 
 And flowing musically to the ripe 
 
 Rush of the grasses, — when the shepherd's pipe 
 
 Is sweet upon the hills, and kidlings frisk. 
 
 And merry children puff" the down away 
 
 From the spent dandelion's silvery disk, 
 
 In mythic meadows, — and Apollo's lay 
 
 Floats from the sun-veiled mountain's misty rim.
 
 FIDELIS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 All natures fleet and jo3'ous as his own 
 
 Flashed welcome on him from the earth and skies! 
 
 But, as a lark that from his airy throne 
 
 Descends, still singing, to the loved one's cries, 
 
 He— from the wonders of a world unknown, 
 
 And that new liberty of life and limb. 
 
 Turned suddenly— arrested in full chase:— 
 
 For love of one that walked with tardy pace, 
 
 And waved a beckoning hand, and called to him, — 
 
 And, with a farewell burst of fiery chiding 
 
 To the grim water-rat in sedges hiding, 
 
 With brisk obedience did his way retrace, 
 
 To welcome and to fawn about the feet. 
 
 Whose neighbourhood alone made pleasure sweet.
 
 lo FIDELIS. 
 
 To breathe love-music at a heart and ear 
 
 Not inattentive to his plaintive cries, 
 
 Exploring with long looks the care-worn eyes 
 
 Whose praise in disappointment satisfies. 
 
 In danger, death itself— can still endear: 
 
 Earth's summer festival, her myriad tongues, 
 
 The breath of the free air about his lungs, 
 
 He leaves them all for love, in hut or house abiding!
 
 FIDELIS. II 
 
 VII. 
 
 Those two canaries sing the whole night long 
 
 By snatches sweet; as when towards their song 
 
 Two wing-like ears were lifted suddenly 
 
 And dropped again; while glimmering through the night, 
 
 A lamb-like shape, droop-headed, silvery-white, 
 
 Uprising, ghostly in the dusk, would creep 
 
 To watch its friend (awaking or asleep), 
 
 Responding to a Avhisper or caress 
 
 By sweeter sounds of deeper blessedness 
 
 Than those that from its innocent rest could move, — 
 
 O beating heart of apprehensive love !
 
 12 FIDELIS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The loving victim of a light command, 
 
 What could he do but tremble and obey? 
 
 With head averted in my arms he lay, 
 
 Eluding my caresses, stiff and chill, 
 
 As seeing what I saw not,— woe the day! 
 
 The veiled face of Death that stood at bay 
 
 A moment — as I balanced in my hand 
 
 The scales of Life and Death, of good and 111,- 
 
 AVaiting to claim him as I turned away.
 
 FIDELIS. 13 
 
 IX. 
 
 Decay and death that faithful heart are stiUing, 
 Those sportive limbs at rest beneath the tree; 
 But musing on thee, as thou wast and art, 
 Thy keen capacity for bliss or bane, 
 Thy strength to bear all ills, but of the heart,— 
 I bow the eyes rebellious tears are filling. 
 Confronted by Creation's mystery 
 Of suffering — the crown of it being this, — 
 Man's burden sharing, exiled from his bliss, 
 Companions of his labour, not his gain. 
 There are that suffer, doing naught amiss, 
 And die unsolaced, helpless to complain 
 And give to man their all— and idly drain 
 Their hearts of love, their limbs of life, in vain !
 
 ,4 FIDELIS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Deep eloquence of creatures that are dumb, 
 Of gracious animal existences ! 
 So the babe quivers to its mother's kiss, 
 And coos for love, and cannot find a tongue ; 
 But when the power of speech has fully come, 
 And the child prattles (much as others do), 
 Who does not feel that something is withdrawn 
 Of mystery, and blest emotion too ? 
 As when the tender twilight fields of dawn 
 With night's pale planets lingering in the grey. 
 Where we may walk with angels at our will, 
 And gather lilies, flushed or dewy chill,— 
 Give place to shadows on a sunny lawn. 
 And plod of feet upon a dusty way.
 
 FIDELIS. 15 
 
 XL 
 
 Rest: truer heart hath never felt a pain! 
 
 Eyes, jewel-dark, where sense and feeUng glow, 
 
 Gay, golden ears, more restless than a vane 
 
 In summer's fitful airs that come and go; 
 
 Swift feet, whose music pattering to and fro. 
 
 Ran through the dull old house like fresh-caught fire ; 
 
 Shrill welcomings, and quaint attacks of ire, 
 
 Dissolving, like the frost before the sun. 
 
 In fawnings meek, and fondlings of the tongue, 
 
 And notes, more plaintive sweet were never wrung 
 
 From nightingale, beneath the weeping grey 
 
 Of moonless heavens, inquiring of the May,— 
 
 For ever hushed! the pleasant game is played 
 
 Half-mirthful, halfpathetic— in the shade 
 
 Of these dim boughs content thee, little one!
 
 l6 FIDELIS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Here in trance of summer light 
 Lies the ground from morn till night, 
 And a hush of murmuring shade 
 Ripples, wind-disquieted; 
 On his body lay no stone 
 Colder than a babe's caressing, 
 Nothing weightier than a blessing, 
 Or a closing daisy crown; 
 Nothing of more harsh resistance 
 Than green boughs, by light airs bent, 
 And the dim or luminous distance, 
 Love's immortal monument!
 
 FIDELIS. 17 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ivy and rushes, 
 May-snow and May-blushes, 
 Fairy ferns from twilit cover 
 Winter's icy gusts pass over, 
 Violets housed in brambly hedges, 
 Mosses from the dank ditch edges, 
 LiHes in grey woodlands gathered. 
 Pearly wind-stars that have weathered 
 Winter's burial: cuckoo flowers. 
 Blossoms the warm sun and showers 
 "Wake in clusters from the clay
 
 l8 FIDELIS. 
 
 Wide-eyed children of the day ! 
 
 Baby primrose, cowslip springing, 
 
 Woven, when the birds are singing 
 
 To the setting sun that lingers. 
 
 Shining through the weaver's fingers. 
 
 Till the moon find strength to sliine 
 
 Faint above yon grove of pine, 
 
 And timid stars take heart, and brave 
 
 The ascent of heaven,— and this green cave 
 
 Smile dimly, through a leaf-drawn veil, 
 
 Impearled with blossoms dewy pale: 
 
 A chastened, but expectant, smile. 
 
 As knowing in a little while 
 
 Pure light shall crown its grassy mound.
 
 FIDELIS. 19 
 
 And deeper music stir the ground, 
 Voice of the two-fold mystery lying 
 Between our birth-hour and our dying, - 
 O nightingale! for ever crying, 
 That joy is pain's suspended breath, 
 And life is love— and love is death!
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 IN MAIDEN MEDITATION. 
 
 I LEAN towards ye, stars that silently 
 
 Kindle the dark above, 
 I stretch wide arms that gleam above the sea 
 And ask the murmuring waves, and ask of ye, 
 
 O stars that shine and flee. 
 Of a great mystery shut up from me — 
 Creation's m5'stery, Love!
 
 A REVERIE. 21 
 
 How cometh he? The sun 
 
 Shines on the rose's petals whitely rolled, 
 
 Close folded one by one, 
 
 Till blushes crimson, and the leaf-buds part 
 
 To the warm breathing of her fragrant heart : 
 
 Is sunshine like to love? the lover's art, 
 
 Great as the sun's to give or to withhold 
 
 The loveliness he praises? Might I be 
 
 Ileloved and lovely, should love look on me? 
 
 Wears he the form of eagle or of dove? 
 
 Drives he his chariot o'er a darkened sea 
 
 With flame and thunder drest? 
 
 Or smiles he from a fair cloud's downy breast 
 
 Wind-speeded to the west, 
 
 A cloud with heaven's roses on its breast?
 
 22 A REVERIE. 
 
 Or sails he with the birds across the seas 
 In the dim shadow of our island trees 
 
 To build a nest? 
 A bird that keeps in memory year by year 
 
 The one green covert dear! 
 So constant he, and true of memory? 
 
 Or rises he from grasses at full height 
 As moth-wings flash from thistledown— a slight 
 And blue-eyed boy, bearing a lily crown 
 And lily wand? Alas! for then I might 
 So meeting him amid the languid light, 
 Where summer meadows twinkle to the heat, 
 Mistake him for a playmate mild and sweet, 
 And follow him for many a sultry mile, 
 
 Till lips forget to smile 
 
 And limbs are weak.
 
 A REVERIE. 23 
 
 Is love SO meek, and crafty to beguile, 
 While evermore the homeward pathway seems 
 Like a friend's face familiar to our dreams, 
 Near to— yet far to seek? 
 
 Or doth he sing 
 With birds of leafy spring, 
 That call their mates down from the happy skies, 
 
 With sacrifice 
 Of strong-winged liberty, and joy secure 
 
 To labour and endure. 
 To crouch beneath a shadow that deceives, 
 A sunbeam lifts, and light airs blow apart. 
 To lay up treasure in the grass and leaves, 
 With faint, unquiet heart? 
 To rest unrestfully, beneath the moon 
 And ever lingering suns of sultry June, 
 Lulled by a pleasant tune 
 
 A hope unsure?
 
 24 A REVERIE. 
 
 Shall love so sing to me, and I give ear - , 
 
 And make a home, and lay up treasure here 
 Where now I lonely mo\"e? 
 Shall I too listen, casting away fear, 
 At the sweet call of love? 
 
 What voice hath he 
 
 That hearing I may flee 
 
 If so he sing to me ? 
 The blowing of the fitful summer wind 
 Nurses the new-born fruit within the flower 
 Whose April bloom it shed: 
 It whispers in the pine-boughs, and the do\'es, 
 Whose cherish'd nest was rifled yesterday, 
 Whose young have dyed the mosses with their blood, 
 Shedding their tender plumage to the breeze, — 
 Make soft low answer, wooing at their ease, 
 And build anew within the dusky trees 
 Whose fragrant branches cradle to betray: —
 
 A REVERIE. 25 
 
 ,Is the wind's voice like love's? with softest breath 
 Kindling new life in death, 
 Inviting to new joy, when joy is dead? 
 
 Then is love strong: 
 O world so full of blandishment and wrong, 
 
 world of love ! my feet delay to tread 
 
 Your mystic bowers: 
 
 1 stand apart, and hear the ceaseless song 
 
 Of "love, love, love," — yet pain and death are powers, 
 
 And the dark places of the earth are red 
 
 With cruelty:— But love is strong to shed 
 
 Fruit where our lips have fed 
 
 On poisons,— flowers where a heart has bled, 
 
 Fresh flowers above the dead! 
 
 I cannot see his face, or touch his hand 
 Here, in the starlit darkness where I stand 
 And lean from out this sea-girt balcony:
 
 26 A REVERIE. 
 
 Can it be he whose whisper in my ears 
 Drowning the festive harmony, has sent 
 Me, from rejoicing friends in discontent, 
 As blinded by my tears, 
 
 I stand apart, 
 And Hsten to the murmur of the sea — 
 
 And of my heart !
 
 SUNRISE AND SUNSET. 
 
 — t/ 
 
 The ruddy sunrise called to the sunset, 
 
 (Burning gold and violet,) 
 Sending his message by the op'ning rose. 
 
 And every air that blows, 
 "Turn thy bright footsteps to the summer moon, 
 
 "And meet me soon,— 
 "Aye, meet me, clasp me, kiss me, at mid-noon?" 
 
 So the fair sunset to the fresh sunrise 
 
 Turned her faint eyes. 
 Called back the colour to her fading face, 
 
 And spread her arms, and yearned to his embrace : 
 "It cannot be, my brother, O bright Day! 
 
 "There is no place in all the starry way, 
 " Where thou and I may meet,— warm life— and wan decay."
 
 THE CONVENT GARDEN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Close sheltered from the gaze of all 
 
 It lay, the lovely garden— 
 
 The long, the lofty convent wall 
 
 Its beauty's jealous warden. 
 
 And flower-like shadows fell to rest 
 
 On the nun's pale brow and her pensive breast. 
 
 The sunlight rippled amid the trees, 
 
 In webs of misty gold, 
 
 The nectarous lily fed the bees 
 
 That murmured in its fold. 
 
 But sunshine and sweetness load like sorrow 
 
 The heart that weeteth not hope's gay morrow.
 
 THE CONVENT GARDEN. 29 
 
 Without, where reeds and wild flowers dream 
 
 And tangled trailers run, 
 
 A little sea-ward flowing stream 
 
 Laughed up into the sun, 
 
 And the bird's free note with a rapture of sound, 
 
 Seemed to shiver and darken the walls around. 
 
 II. 
 
 The star of evening glimmered pale, 
 
 And pealed the vesper chimes, 
 
 A light wind fluttered her dusky veil. 
 
 As under the perfumed limes 
 
 She passed to the chapel, where, still and deep. 
 
 The life of an earlier age doth sleep.
 
 30 THE CONVENT GARDEN. 
 
 Stained crystal and tapers fair 
 
 Make dim the twilight skies, 
 
 On wings of the angels sculptured there 
 
 Rich rainbow lustre lies— 
 
 But no rich blending colours the life 
 
 Of a human soul with itself at strife. 
 
 Up floating through carven arches dim 
 
 The sweet, clear octaves roll, 
 
 "Dies ilia irae" flows the hymn 
 
 f'or the departed soul— 
 
 But her voice, by my wistful fancy fed, 
 
 Seemed to plead for the living and not the dead
 
 HIC JACET. 
 
 In rosy light it lies, the earth its urn: 
 Under the funeral pyre of dying day, 
 
 Amid brown leaves and fern: 
 The soul of fire, hath flitted far away. 
 And the still clay, that cannot rise or turn, 
 
 Content to stay 
 Amid dead leaves and blossoms, day by day 
 
 Fast moulders to decay.
 
 32 HIC JACET. 
 
 Where two have met— a stone; 
 
 Where two have joyed— a sorrow, 
 
 Where two have parted— all the way's o'ergrown 
 
 With violets darkly blown; 
 
 And mosses borrow 
 Fresh verdure from the dust of one that sleeps ; 
 Where two have stood— one steals to weep alone, 
 
 Here — where the night wind creeps. 
 
 In the moon's light it lies, no more to burn 
 With pangs of baffled hope, or vain desire ; 
 
 No more to learn 
 In life's rude school,— and of the lesson tire. 
 From bush to bush the nightingales inquire, 
 And answer one another in the calm; 
 The glowworm glitters like a fairy fire, 
 And shado\vy arches of the wild-rose briar 
 Weep from their half-closed blossoms tears of balm.
 
 HIC JACET. 33 
 
 In darkness dull it lies, 
 
 All that we prize — 
 All that we seek to earn with sacrifice 
 
 Of toil and tears, 
 
 For many days and years, 
 And clasp, and call our own, but cannot keep!- 
 
 Frail as a dream of sleep, 
 
 A cloud that flies, 
 
 A flower that dies- 
 Here lies.
 
 BABY-LAND. 
 
 t 
 
 When I lived in Baby-land, 
 All the bells were ringing; 
 
 Fairies dancing hand in hand, 
 To their own sweet singing. 
 
 n. 
 
 All the blue and silver fishes, 
 
 Told some pretty story; 
 Dogs were washing cups and dishes, 
 
 Cats were in their glory.
 
 BABY-LAND. 
 
 35 
 
 III. 
 
 Every little bird that flies, 
 
 Was a good adviser; 
 Talking frogs would plash, and rise, 
 
 All the world was wiser. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Lizards brought dark deeds to light, 
 Bees were judge and jury, 
 
 Right still triumphed over might. 
 Meekness over fury. 
 
 V. 
 
 There we met in forest lone. 
 
 Princes and Princesses; 
 King or Queen with golden crown, 
 
 Diamonds in their tresses.
 
 J 
 
 6 BABY-LAND. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Warriors shone in jewelled mail, 
 
 Jewell'd rein and crupper; 
 Small green dogs with frisky tail, 
 
 Brought their lady's supper. 
 
 VII. 
 
 White-robed shepherdesses, fair 
 
 As Ulies by a fountain; 
 With their flocks would climb the stair 
 
 Of the steepest mountain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Shepherd's with their hats and crooks, 
 Wreathed with roses finely; 
 
 Rested by the rippling brooks, 
 Singing— so divinely!
 
 BABY-LAND. 37 
 
 IX. 
 
 Pretty children passed the night, 
 On mossy banks, for bedding; 
 
 Shining ones their wings of light. 
 Over them be-spreading. 
 
 X. 
 
 Gold and silver did abound; 
 
 Dwarfs in caves of crystal, 
 Chinked their guineas underground, - 
 Now such coin is mist all! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Sometimes the blue mountains o'er. 
 
 Came a fiery dragon; 
 And a Fairy's car he bore. 
 
 Or a Giant's wagon.
 
 38 BABY-LAND. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then when in some beauteous shape, 
 
 Hope was at its zero, 
 From the skin of bear or ape, 
 
 Flash'd the handsome hero! 
 
 xnr. 
 
 Dared the Genii, sank the ships, 
 
 Scaled the magic tower; 
 With the chami of kissing Ups, 
 
 Quelled the adverse power. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Now nor dwarfs nor cobbolds thrive, 
 'Neath our roofs of crystal; 
 
 Beasts are mute, and fishes dive. 
 Mortals hear and wist all!
 
 BABY-LAND. 39 
 
 XV. 
 
 High the quick-set hedges rise, 
 
 From the flats of duty; 
 Where, betwixt the earth and skies, 
 
 Lies that land of beauty. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 O that I were back once more, 
 To hear the fairies singing; 
 
 To sit upon my nursery floor, 
 And set the bells a-ringing!
 
 NOT BY HER SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Not by her sunbeams only, 
 
 Summer's known, 
 But by her deep'ning shadows, fern-flecked stone 
 And boughs that kiss the pathway, 
 
 Grass o'ergrown. 
 
 Not in gay laughter only, 
 
 Joy is heard, 
 But in the brooding quiet of a bird, 
 Listening her mate's near music 
 Pleasure-stirr'd.
 
 NOT BY HER SUNBEAMS. 41 
 
 Not by a promise only, 
 
 Lovers plight, 
 But in low whispers, fainter than the flight 
 Of air-fed midges over 
 Pools of light !
 
 EXILED. 
 
 No more thy face to see: 
 I sometimes idly wonder if it be 
 As present unto any as to me, — 
 A star for distance clearer! 
 
 Parted by land and tide : 
 In gleams that fade, in shadows that abide, 
 Along the mountain's ever-varying side, 
 Thy footstep draweth nearer.
 
 EXILED. 43 
 
 The white snow falls in flakes 
 On glazing waters,— but thy memory makes 
 A home for me amid these alien lakes, 
 More warm as days grow drearer. 
 
 Say, dearest, that for me 
 
 Art as a link uniting land and sea, 
 
 Time, distance, life and death— can any be 
 
 That clasping,— hold thee nearer?
 
 BITTER WORDS. 
 
 I DO not weep because thy words 
 Have ended all 'twixt thee and me, — 
 But they have scared my singing birds, 
 Whose nest is cold within the tree. 
 
 Nor do I weep because the way 
 Is lonely now, uncheered by love^ 
 But O, the sultry, silvery grey. 
 And not to hear the lark above!
 
 BITTER WORDS. 45 
 
 I weep no more that loving eyes 
 Have looked with loveless scorn on me,- 
 But for the aching light that lies 
 Where Love's soft shadow used to be. 
 
 I would not weep, that long have fed 
 On dainties, while my brethren pine, 
 Could I but eat their common bread 
 And slake my thirst with homelier wine. 
 
 I would not weep, my house of pride 
 Is rent asunder, roof and door,— 
 But for the shapes that mock and glide. 
 Embalmed as holy heretofore.
 
 46 BITTER WORDS. 
 
 I weep because no sun shall rise 
 When earth shall be as once it seemed, 
 And I, with soul-reviving sighs, 
 Shall, waking, say, "I only dreamed!" 
 
 And yet, and yet, a day may dawn 
 To music, sweeter than a bird's. 
 And I, the veil of flesh withdrawn, 
 Shall hear no more those bitter words 1
 
 BIRD VISITS. 
 
 Thou did'st tap at the lattice old 
 Ruffled bird of the rain, 
 Flying over the snow-covered plain 
 To find but the cruel closed pane, 
 Shut out in the cold. 
 
 One tap with thy brisk little bill 
 On the crystal, and one on the sill, 
 
 And one on my heart ! 
 The lattice I hie to unclose. 
 But again with the wind and snows, 
 
 And the distance, thou art.
 
 48 - BIRD VISITS. 
 
 O shy as the shy mignonnette, 
 That keeps back its scent from the seeker, 
 Come again through the wind and the wet, 
 Saucy bird, for I do not forget, 
 My once happy heart has grown meeker; 
 Its beatings abate. 
 As in stillness I wait, 
 With blowing hair blurred by the rain: — 
 
 See I shred from above 
 
 The light food thou dost love. 
 
 Then eat: for the hour is late, 
 
 Shall one hasty trial, 
 
 One heedless denial, 
 
 Turn love into hate?
 
 BIRD VISITS. 49 
 
 The sleety rains pour 
 In a rill to the floor, 
 As I murmur once more, 
 (But in vain,) 
 'Return, O my bird, O my shy mignonnette, 
 For the feast is provided, the casement wide set, 
 From the wild wintry world, from the snows of regret 
 Once again !
 
 V 
 
 SNOW IN APRIL. 
 
 O FOOLISH bud, to blow 
 
 At first faint smile of Spring, 
 
 Perfuming all the air! 
 
 O foolish bird, to sing, 
 
 And build a nest that all may spy, 
 
 Your young of cold and want will die 
 
 Beneath the branches bare.
 
 SNOW JN APRIL. 51 
 
 How sad and silent now 
 
 The tuneful April grove! 
 
 Its colour, melody and love 
 
 All lost beneath the snow; 
 
 The fair and flowery April grove, 
 
 With all its birds in pair. 
 
 O foolish heart, beware! 
 Nor— unforeseeing— 
 (Lured by a yearned-for bliss, 
 A smile, a kiss)— 
 Barter sweet hopes of 3'outh and youth's well-being, 
 To build and blossom in a leafless bower, 
 With April bird and flower, 
 Lest Love take wing amid the falling snows, 
 O wait for summer shade and perfumed rose!
 
 'i 
 
 \ 
 
 \/ 
 
 \ 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 Where good and evil hours 
 
 Are heaping fruits and flowers, 
 
 And buds— in her dim bowers to blossom never! 
 
 Under a dusky screen, 
 
 Of luminous evergreen, 
 Dwells Memory, gazing on the Past for ever. 
 
 The boughs that arch above her, 
 
 Are dear to friend and lover. 
 
 The tangled hazel cover quick with sighs: 
 
 One broken violet, 
 
 With tears and kisses wet, 
 Is dearer to her heart than sacrifice.
 
 MEMORY. S3 
 
 The fields of long ago 
 
 In shadowy sunlight glow, 
 
 Whence words and whispers flow, and lovers talk, 
 
 And friends— a shining throng. 
 
 When gazed upon too long. 
 Turning to ghosts— together smile and walk. 
 
 Her wood-encumbered vales 
 
 Are full of nightingales, 
 
 When evening's planet pales the purple pines; 
 
 The paths her footsteps stir 
 
 Are warm with lavender, 
 Made dark by juniper, and ivy vines.
 
 54 MEMORY 
 
 Dark wood of mystic wonder, 
 
 How much of love we squander, 
 
 Where our buried hopes yet wander to the last I 
 
 Under faintly flushing skies, 
 
 Looking love into our eyes, 
 From fields of Paradise— or of the Past. 
 
 O fair with tender fancies! 
 
 O Avild with youth's romances! 
 
 O dark with purple pansies and rich blooms! 
 
 Here — where no winds are blowing, 
 
 Are tears for ever flowing, 
 And mosses greenly growing over tombs.
 
 MEMORY. 55 
 
 Thus in a dusky screen 
 
 Of luminous evergreen 
 
 Dwells Memory blinded to all new endeavour, 
 
 Because for her no flowers 
 
 Bloom in the future's bowers, 
 The light of bygone hours burns on for ever.
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 
 
 I SOUGHT a land of summer heat, 
 Where rich fruits ripen to the beat 
 
 Of broad Pacific seas, 
 Where sunshine settles all the year, 
 
 And night falls sudden, not as here. 
 By soft and slow degrees.
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 57 
 
 The large stars glittered, and on high 
 The giant trees caressed the sky, 
 And, as we passed between, 
 The fragrant undergrowth was stirr'd, 
 The dry leaf rustled, and a bird 
 Chirped in the dark, unseen. 
 
 I loved the unending forest lawn, 
 Where buds that blossomed at the dawn 
 
 Of God's creation burst, 
 And smiled and faded year by year, 
 Garnering their seeds for earth to rear 
 As fondly as at first.
 
 58 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 
 
 No moated castle, wreathed in mist, 
 Belted with wood, and river-kissed, 
 
 Renowned of song or art, 
 Could thrill me like the uplifted eye 
 
 Of one frail blossom, nestled shy 
 At Nature's nursing heart. 
 
 But on the night whereof I speak, 
 The sinking ground betrayed a creek, 
 
 Bridged by a white tree-bole; 
 The moon had risen, to light a scene 
 
 Of cultured beauty, whence a lean 
 Old man to meet us stole.
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS 59 
 
 The sinewy form, so wasted, — told 
 Of strange privation, agiie-cold, 
 
 And weeks of wolfish fast; 
 The furtive eye, the stealthy gait, 
 Seemed ever to elude the weight 
 Of fetters riven and cast. 
 
 And partly seen, and partly guess'd. 
 And part by sluggish speech confess'd, 
 
 A moment to my view 
 The man's life opened, as a scroll 
 Of which we vaguely glimpse the whole, 
 But cannot read it through.
 
 6o A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 
 
 Escaping to the forest lone, 
 In faith of desperation grown, 
 
 He tilled the willing soil, 
 And wandered far for grafts and slips 
 And planted seeds, and stones, and pips, 
 That overpaid his toil. 
 
 How had he lived? as gipsies may. 
 That prowl for plunder or for prey, 
 
 A piteous apparition! 
 Or, desperate in his famine's danger. 
 Rifling the pockets of the stranger, 
 Fleet-footed as a vision.
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 6i 
 
 But as his speechless friends, the trees, 
 Put forth their fruit, by slow degrees, 
 
 (Reaping as he had sown) 
 He bore them, under stars and moon, 
 Then, unmolested, at mid-noon, 
 
 To homestead, hut, or town. 
 
 I marvelled: thus the man had dwelt 
 Long, long ere I had breathed or felt, 
 
 Leading a life more lonely 
 Than any lot that can befall, 
 In this our England, within call 
 
 Of weekly church bells only.
 
 62 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 
 
 P'or fifty years th'alternate light 
 
 Of sun and moonbeam, day and night, 
 
 Through leaf and bough had twinkled 
 On those lean hands, that day by day 
 Watered the root, and pruned the spray, 
 
 Crime-blackened, and time-wrinkled. 
 
 As some strange thing we surely know 
 Even in our sleep cannot be so, 
 
 So fared it with me then, — 
 The man, the hut, the orchard lone. 
 Seemed half unreal, half well-known, 
 
 I knew not where or when.
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 63 
 
 By ways too wild for thought to travel, 
 Familiar seemed the moss-grown gravel, 
 
 On which the moon was leaning, 
 Through orange boughs, moon-fruited, white 
 With starry blooms, her amber light 
 
 The shadowy hollows greening. 
 
 The slumbrous growth of gourd and vine. 
 Pomegranate, melon, fig and pine, 
 
 The slender loquot stem. 
 Where rising from the palm-like shoot. 
 The palm-like leaf-crown held the fruit 
 
 Set in it like a gem:
 
 64 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 
 
 The scented lemon-flower, the peach, 
 The grapes that clustered out of reach 
 
 From shadowy trellisses, 
 The passion fruit, here fit to eat. 
 That dropped dead-ripened at my feet, 
 
 The hut beneath the trees, 
 
 The globe-like shadows falling fair 
 
 From fruits whose perfume filled the air, ^ 
 
 The bridge across the stream — 
 (A silver door-way in the dark 
 Rough prison, of its falling bark 
 
 To that fair land of dream,)
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 65 
 
 The English rose and mignonnette, 
 The Bible at the window set, 
 
 Perplexed me like a care, 
 And that dark shape, for some dark crime 
 Transported to that cloudless clime, 
 
 To rear a scene so fair. 
 
 With melon, fig, and apricot, 
 
 And lightened purse, we lefi; the spot, 
 
 (Our farewell unretumed,) 
 We crossed the creek, and watched him go 
 Among his fruit trees to and fro, 
 
 In freedom dearly earned.
 
 66 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 
 
 And now between that spot and me 
 There Hes a deep and pathless sea 
 
 No mortal ship can sunder, 
 It sighs upon youth's summer shore, 
 But singing, sighing, nevermore 
 
 Awakes the closed eyes under. 
 
 If I that orchard should regain. 
 By any ship that sails the main 
 
 Of waters disenchanted. 
 Should pluck the ripe fruit from the tree, 
 And eat and leave, the grove for me, 
 
 Might never have been planted.
 
 A LODGE IN A GARDEN OF CUCUMBERS. 67 
 
 But through the vista of the years 
 That lonely figure reappears, 
 
 And stirs my heart's emotion; 
 I smell the fruit, I feel the heat, 
 I hear the whisper, drowsy-sweet. 
 
 Of that soft Southern ocean.
 
 A SONG. 
 1879. 
 
 Will the Spring come once again, 
 And bring the sunbeams with her, 
 And the violet in the lane 
 And the lily on the mere? 
 
 Will the sweet Spring venture hither. 
 And snow dissolve in rain, 
 And ice fields crash and quiver 
 And the tender blade appear?
 
 A SONG. 69 
 
 She is mute as yonder river, 
 She will answer not, nor hear, 
 She has wandered far, ah! whither? 
 From our penury and pain: 
 
 The frost wind bites severely, 
 And leaden days grow longer, 
 The little birds are nearly 
 Starved to death upon the plain ; 
 
 O if Spring should come, how cheerly 
 They would pour forth strain on strain, 
 O if Spring should come, how dearly 
 They would welcome her again!
 
 70 A SONG. 
 
 But Winter's grip is stronger, 
 Small wings stiffen as they fly, 
 And bitter days grow longer, 
 As day by day goes by- 
 Alas, for the New Year! 
 
 Out of silence comes a cry — 
 "Not a snow-drop for the bier, 
 No bud nor wreath to lie 
 On the form we hold most dear. 
 
 "Ye have stayed the panting breath 
 Can ye stay the mourner's tear, 
 O bitter winds of death ! 
 O cruel, cold New Year!"
 
 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 Are the sun-ripe apples gathered? 
 Do the violets scent the bed? 
 The almond-breathing clematis 
 Full clustered overhead? 
 Is the autumn air as balmy, 
 And the evening sky as red? 
 
 Are ruddy leaves yet falling 
 On the dew-ensilvered lawn? 
 Do butterflies still flicker 
 When the vapours are withdrawn, 
 Over blossoms flush'd or fading 
 Fire-tinted as the dawn?
 
 72 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 Is light and shadow dreaming 
 
 In the sheltered laurel glade? 
 
 In the wilderness I planted 
 
 Do the birds sing undismayed — 
 
 The old birds, and the nestlings 
 
 That were hatched beneath its shade? 
 
 The shapes of breezy whiteness 
 
 That gamboll'd at my feet, 
 
 With eager eyes, and loving cries, 
 
 And life at fever heat— 
 
 They are resting in the twilight 
 
 Of that ever-green retreat.
 
 LOOKING BACK. 73 
 
 O sweet it was to loiter 
 With one no longer here; 
 The sunny stillness shaken 
 By carols loud and clear: 
 Our pleasant talk suspended 
 For joys of eye and ear. 
 
 To greet the budding spring-time 
 
 And watch the year's decay, 
 
 And make my heart the counterpart 
 
 Of Nature's ebb and play, 
 
 That weeps and grieves, and sheds her leaves. 
 
 To smile again in May.
 
 K I N G S W E A R, 1879. 
 
 Farewell to Kingswear, and its wooded bays 
 AVhere the fair Dart is widening to the sea 
 Its flower-enamelled ledges, fern-clad ways, 
 And heathery steeps, pine-scented greenery. 
 The dusky hills beneath the evening red, 
 The gliding sail of many a fairy bark, 
 The snowy sea-birds wheeUng over-head, 
 And gush of moonlight over ocean dark,— 
 Some greater bard than I, may fitly praise, 
 I can but catalogue its beauties rare, 
 Though much obscured of late by fog and haze 
 And drenching rains, and heavy wintry air.
 
 KINGSWEAR, 1879. 75 
 
 The sea-pinks rosying in ocean cave, 
 The river widening to infinitude, 
 The dove-like wings that rock upon the wave. 
 Or far in golden ether flash and brood, 
 No more with wistful eyes I stand to mark. 
 When sea and sun the heavens with, glory pave, 
 And memor}' draws her pictures bright or dark 
 While quickened fancy soars beyond the grave. 
 
 Sister, when next we meet, where will it be— 
 Beside the widening river or the sea— 
 In wrinkled age, or youth's eternity?
 
 A MAY MEETING. 
 
 Nightly we met, but never spoke before, 
 "He loved to walk alone, and loved not girls," 
 So said his younger brother, with the curls 
 Of an Apollo, and a soldier born. 
 Now old in scars and honors; then came she. 
 Their sister, holding sentiment in scorn, 
 And of that goodly three, demurely fair, — 
 But in my heart I had elected one, 
 (Red May-boughs bore he in the setting sun) 
 Who turned aside, and never spoke to me. 
 A glorious sunset crowned as fair a day, 
 As ever dawned upon a world of sin, 
 'Twas May without, and surely May within, 
 Albeit one youthful brow a shadow wore.
 
 A MAY MEETING. 77 
 
 A kiss, a hand-shake, and that younger pair 
 
 Had claimed me once again, their passive prize,— 
 
 When suddenly, as if in girlish whim, 
 
 (But in my heart I had elected him,) 
 
 I stood before him, lifting up my eyes, 
 
 And asked in careless tone, with coward blush, 
 
 "Your red May-blossoms, tell me where they grew?" 
 
 I know not if in words he answered me, - 
 
 The consternation of a glad surprise 
 
 Fell on me, as I marked how pleasure's flush 
 
 Transfigured looks, half sullen and half shy. 
 
 I gave my hand, he would not put it by, — 
 
 I led the attack, my consflous victor he! 
 
 So hand in hand beneath the glowing west 
 
 We turned towards the river, he and I. 
 
 It seemed that sharply-witted couple knew
 
 78 A MAY MEETING. 
 
 The secret charm that drew us each to each, 
 With bow and curtsey and a mocking speech 
 They ran ahead, and vanished out of view. 
 We dropp'd behind, two children in the charge 
 Of social elders, utterly alone 
 Save for each other,— wandering at large 
 Through a strange happy dream-land of our own. 
 And all the riverside was white with May, 
 With here and there a bush of rosy hue ; 
 And as the river murmured on its way. 
 We sang beside it all the songs we knew. 
 We spoke but little, scarcely dared to meet 
 Each other's eyes,— existence was so sweet! 
 So sang and loitered by the river's marge. 
 The river flows, the light of sun and moon 
 Revisits it,— but we had met too soon,
 
 A MAY MEETING. 79 
 
 And all too soon we parted:— for awhile 
 
 "The little lovers," won a kindly smile 
 
 From our good parents: then they shook the head, 
 
 "Twas time to love when old enough to wed".— 
 
 Long after, widowed, and life's story told, 
 
 A letter reached me from a hand now cold; 
 
 " 'Tis May-time, and its wealth of sunny flower, 
 
 "My early love, brings back to me anew 
 
 " The heavenly sweetness of that evening hour, 
 
 " When— happy chance ! my red May-branches drew 
 
 "Your first dear words towards me. Yes, even now 
 
 "Life's crushing cares more clearly bring to view 
 
 "Your face and form and manner, at the turn 
 
 "Towards the river, when the sun was low, 
 
 "And we turned back with you,— all undivining, 
 
 " How from that hour, or for weal or woe 
 
 "My baffled heart should ever turn to you!"
 
 So A MAY MEETING. 
 
 And yet— or so it seems to me—/ knew, 
 Sure as the lingering sun in heaven shining, 
 Or this weak heart that scarce in age can learn 
 The apathy of age to joy or pain.— 
 My heart's elected, shall we meet again 
 Beside the flowing river and its flowers, 
 And sing together, beautiful and young, 
 And own a fuller, freer love than ours,— 
 Than that coy love that never found a tongue 
 Till death had set its seal on manhood's powers?
 
 SONG. 
 
 Is the old world born anew, 
 Merry bird upon the bough 
 
 So wildly carolling? 
 Will the sky be ever blue, 
 And the flower for ever blow. 
 And the bee for ever hum, 
 And no winter blast make dumb 
 Merry music of the Spring ? 
 Will the tear forget to flow. 
 And the swallow to take wing, 
 Nor Love forget his vow. 
 Nor thou forget to sing? 
 
 Ah, no, no!
 
 VIOLETS. 
 
 I have gathered these \-iolets blue, 
 
 Purple and ruddy and white, 
 
 In the -violet-scented vale, 
 
 Betwixt the noon and the night. 
 
 They are near to my heart as I write. 
 
 They are dear to my heart as a babe's first kiss, 
 
 They are clear and apart as yon moonbeam is 
 
 That silvers the boughs of the yew. 
 
 From a colourless life and barren of bliss, 
 
 The long, long winter knew!
 
 VIOLETS. 83 
 
 A token too lightly given 
 
 In Spring's first joyance and mirth,— 
 
 A promise too earthly for Heaven, 
 
 Too heavenly tender for earth: 
 
 A promise still given in vain, 
 
 A hope ever turning to fear, 
 
 A pleasure akin to pain, — 
 
 As of one that is over-dear, 
 
 Whose merriest looks and smiles are seen. 
 
 Tremblingly through a tear. 
 
 Such is the promise ye bring. 
 Breathing of blossoms as frail, 
 Carol of birds on the wing, 
 Cooing of doves in the dale, 
 I— who have soared but to fail, 
 I— who have gathered and sown, 
 Lost all I lived but to own, 
 Read to the end of the tale,—
 
 84 VIOLETS. 
 
 How can I venture to sing 
 
 As of old when the violets flower? 
 
 (A linnet trilling with ever}' beam 
 
 Turning to sunshine the shadowy stream 
 
 Of the fitful April shower), 
 
 How can I venture, with heart set free, 
 
 To hymn the glory of earth and sea. 
 
 Or dream on a sunny bank ^\-ith ye, 
 
 Fair children of an hour?
 
 WINTER VIEWS OF SUMMER LANDS. 
 
 Leaving to dewy darkness, sleep and dreams 
 One half the world,— the stilly morning gleams 
 On cold and cultured shores and curdling streams 
 
 Dense leaden vapours brighten to the glow 
 Of the red rising sun, and new fall'n snow 
 Reflects their radiance faintly from below; 
 
 But idly musing of a sunnier clime, 
 My spirit takes as little count of time 
 As, in the shelter of yon leafless lime,
 
 86 WINTER VIEWS OF SUMMER LANDS. 
 
 Blue stan'eling rose-buds, frosted mignonnette, 
 The stars that linger in mid-heaven yet, 
 Or yon frail moon that lias forgot to set. 
 
 Not thus yon sun from these dim heavens declining 
 Shall wake the under-world to sudden shining 
 Through glcssy evergreens fair paths defining: 
 
 Brightening the bosom of Pacific seas, 
 Lighting a myriad flower-chalices 
 And flitting ferns by rocky terraces, 
 
 Where the mimosa from her native ledges, 
 Casts her fair shadow to the water's edges, 
 And green-gold lizards gem the myrtle hedges.
 
 WINTER VIEWS OF SUMMER LANDS. 87 
 
 The crisp apacris droops her waxen bells, 
 
 Lobelia purples over stones and shells, 
 
 And trees of resinous growth yield pleasant smells. 
 
 Oh, fair the glow by recollection cast, 
 
 On flowery woods, and spicy forests vast 
 
 Where we have rambled— somewhere in the past! 
 
 The balms of health give fragrance to the breeze, 
 The stars of Hope are shining in the trees, 
 The light of Love broods over land and seas 1 
 
 And fair those glittering leagues of silver spray, 
 
 By which to wander very far away 
 
 From the chill squalors of this winter day.
 
 88 WINTER VIEWS OF SUMMER LANDS. 
 
 By weed-gro«Ti waves of early memory tided 
 
 To slip into a world so sunny-sided, 
 
 As from its mother's cottage porch, unguided, 
 
 A child beloved of fairies, calmly takes 
 Its place in the enchanted boat that makes 
 For the bright palace, and the magic lakes.
 
 I SIGHED FOR LOVE. 
 
 I sighed for Love; 
 
 He leaned him from above, 
 
 With kisses, murmuring like a nesting dove; 
 
 I said, 'abide 
 
 With me till eventide;' 
 Alas! he vanished ere the dews were dried. 
 
 Weeping, intent 
 
 Upon my loss, I went, 
 
 Singing the songs Love taught me as he leant; 
 
 Time passed; I came 
 Towards one that breathed my name, 
 And lured me with the laurel wreath of fame.
 
 90 I SIGHED FOR LOVE. 
 
 And said, 'Be bold!' 
 
 And I, 'The tale is old!' 
 
 But she, 'Sing all who may, 't is still untold!' 
 
 With flattering smile, 
 She fooled me many a mile; 
 But promises unkept fair lips defile. 
 
 ' False Love ! false fire ! 
 
 No more I ye desire: 
 
 Come, my heart's friend, thy feet can never tirel' 
 
 Friendship that gave 
 What faith forbore to crave, 
 Yearned for too late, made answer from the grave.
 
 NO LAND HAVE I. 
 
 No land have I 
 No, not a rood, 
 To barter, and that men may buy. 
 
 And yet a reahn 
 Is mine, upon whose Hmits oceans roar, 
 And I, unpiloted of sail or helm, 
 Can coast that shore. 
 
 Or loitering gUde 
 With bended head. 
 To gather shells and sea-weed at ebb-tide; 
 
 So late, so far. 
 While others think me within sight and hearing 
 Nor in the lack of sun, and moon, and star, 
 A darkness fearing.
 
 92 NO LAND HAVE I. 
 
 'Tis merrier there 
 Than holiday, 
 When friends long parted chat at feast or fair; 
 
 And stilly sweet, 
 As when beside a moss-grown primrose way. 
 With clasping hands two youthful lovers meet 
 Where none gainsay. 
 
 And yet so bright 
 And fanciful, 
 With gusts of sudden music in the night, 
 
 And all my own, — 
 'Tis lonely as a pearl a queen might crave 
 That sheds its light in darkness, and unknown 
 In deep sea-cave.
 
 SONNET. 
 
 In Battle Abbey, where grim dungeons yawn 
 
 Beneath the fair and trimly shaven lawn 
 
 That overlooks the valley of the fight, — 
 
 Where miserable men were chained and pent 
 
 From human converse, and frbm Heaven's light,— 
 
 Did those engaged in charitable deed 
 
 Washing the pilgrim's feet, and giving alms, 
 
 Think of the woe beneath, — or took they heed 
 
 That groans and curses mingled with their psalms? 
 
 Or, pacing that exhilarating height, 
 
 In holy meditation, did no fierce 
 
 And agonizing cry the spirit pierce. 
 
 Rending the veil of that complaisant creed, 
 
 To show the fires of hell, beneath those saintly calms?
 
 SONG. 
 
 A DEAD Love that never dies. 
 
 An old Love for ever new, 
 That meeting, turns away its eyes, 
 
 And fleeting, is for ever true: 
 
 An infant Love, yet full of years, 
 A woeful Love, that yet could please, 
 
 That smiled, but ever through its tears, 
 And hung its harp upon the trees.
 
 SONG. 95 
 
 Nor bread nor wine its life sustained, 
 A starveling at Love's banquet hall, 
 
 Nor envied much what others gained, 
 For Love denied— best loved of all! 
 
 I marvel at the life it had, 
 That hapless love of long ago, 
 
 That ought so sweet, should be so sad, 
 And ought so sad, should charm us so.
 
 V 
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 Does all end here,— and will the tangled skein 
 
 Of life be never wound, 
 Or woven to a whole of clear design? 
 Is vanity the sum of all our days. 
 
 Body and spirit mingling with the ground, 
 Never to rise again, to sing or shiner
 
 THE QUESTION. 97 
 
 Are prayer and aspiration all in vain, 
 Good ever lost in evil, joy in pain ? 
 And are they fools that walk in the old ways, 
 Looking beyond this life to life Divine? 
 
 Does all end here? 
 Then farewell hope and fear! 
 "Live for to-day," for what is worth a tear 
 If this life be our bound? 
 But some, who would not lie, 
 Told us in days gone by 
 That this our life is as a minstrel tuning 
 The jangling strings, rich melody to wake 
 In some diviner sphere:— 
 The gardener pruning 
 An olive wild, some rarer graft to make: 
 A floweret's blooming, 
 To fade, and with the Spring new life to take; 
 The worm's entombing.
 
 98 THE QUESTION. 
 
 To float on wings of fire, and flash in light; 
 
 The unchastened heart's denial 
 
 That humbled, it may soar*, 
 
 The vessel's maiden trial. 
 Teaching the unskill'd helmsman how to steer 
 Beyond the tempest to a haven bright, 
 
 Where storms shall beat no more. 
 Believe, adore, 
 And all shall be made clear. 
 
 Then welcome Hope, though Hope should bring a fear, 
 
 And Joy, a tear, 
 And Love should sorrow bring, with all things dear; 
 Welcome the op'ning skies 
 Of Paradise, 
 And infinite horizons far and near !
 
 THE QUESTION. 99 
 
 By many a symbol sweet— 
 
 The quickened breath 
 Of snowdrops smiling on the frosty earth 
 To greet the New Year's birth— 
 By life in death, 
 By victory in defeat, 
 All is not ended here!
 
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