UMMER SONNHIS I'M MA J. PARKER ' SUMMER SONNETS PHI SUMMER SONNETS AND OTHER VERSES BY EMMA J. PARKER LONDON GRANT RICHARDS 9 Henrietta Street 1898 Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER AND MOTHER THE POET'S HARP Oh for the poet't harp of golden strings, Whose music is the echo of God's thought With earth' s familiar voices interwrought ! A far-off melody divine, that brings A fragment of the song the seraph sings Before God's throne. The mystic chord long sought, Dropping through space, is by the poet caught ; Then like a bird whose once undrooping wings Have wearied in earth's heavy atmosphere, It nestles to the poet's heart, and sings Sweet cadences that none but he can hear, And as he listens all his being thrills With rapture greater than his soul can bear, And so he sings it to the woods and hills. CONTENTS SONNETS PAGE SONNETS OF A SUMMER DAY .... 3 DAY AFTER .DAY ON BEACHY HEAD ... 7 BETHLEHEM ....... 12 FRANCES WILLARD ...... 13 JOSEPH PARKER ...... 14 SAMUEL NEWTH, M.A., D.D. . . . . 16 NATURE'S FACE ...... 17 LIFE'S MUSIC ....... 18 MISCELLANEOUS GOOD-BYE, OLD HOUSE !..... 21 A LOVE SECRET ...... 23 BIRDS OF PASSAGE 24 ON THE CLIFFS ....... 25 vii CONTENTS PAGE A LOST SOUL 27 THE LAND OP SUNLIT SKIES .... 30 THE CRY OF THE PILGRIMS .... 32 GOD'S ANSWER TO THE CRY OF THE PILGRIMS . 34 PERCHANCE 36 LIFE AND DEATH ...... 41 VISIONS OF THE DEAD 43 AIRS OF DELICATE SWEETNESS .... 46 THE CRY OF THE BIRDS 48 THE VOICE OF THE WIND ..... 50 MARGUERITE ....... 52 TWO VIEWS OF LOVE 55 A PRAYER . 57 Vlll SONNETS A X SONNETS OF A SUMMER DAY A SUMMER morn all wet with lustrous dew, Cool with stray breezes flitting down the dell, Full of the love that they are fain to tell To shy sweet flowers, with petals washed anew To greet the day whose happy feet pursue The earthward path, as glad once more to dwell With birds and flowers, and hear the music swell From tiny throats, with joy thrilled through and through. The poplar's fairy twigs expectant shake Through all the tumult of its silvery leaves, That whisper one to other, ' Quick, awake, The day is coming fast/ Under the eaves The swallows chirp, the sleepy thrushes break Into low song, and earth its day receives ! 3 SONNETS OF A SUMMER DAY ii A SUMMER noon, with cloudless fire-filled sky, Whose kisses scorch the buds its lips caress, Flushing them with too keen a happiness, Till drooping 'neath the burning touch they sigh For twilight's gentler, tenderer ecstasy. The gossip bees with buzzing eagerness And droning, iterated emphasis, Scatter their wondrous tidings as they fly. The butterflies on pale, frail yellow wings O'er blue forget-me-nots poise light as air ; And overhead the crimson May-tree swings Its aromatic fragrance everywhere. In quiet shade the scented lily rings Its many bells, calling to midday prayer ! SONNETS OF A SUMMER DAY HI A SUMMER eve all green and grey and still, The sun gone down with pomp majestical. The shadow of tranquillity o'er all The dreamy land ; brown bee and butterfly Have dropped to rest. Out of the languid sky Gleams one pale star ; the thrush has ceased to call, Yet still I hear the cuckoo's sweet voice fall With notes of promise from the distant hill. The night is odorous with eglantine, And splendid with the purple iris bloom ; The tender, gold laburnum pennons shine With softened glory in the gathering gloom, While honeysuckle branches thickly twine About the windows of my darkening room. SONNETS OF A SUMMER DAY IV A STILL, calm night of beauty and of rest. Once more God walks within a garden fair, And palpitating through the throbbing air I catch the mystic music of His best- Loved voice. My listening heart and soul attest His presence ; with great gladness I prepare To meet Him. Taught by tender love, I dare, Like John, to lay my head upon His breast; There all earth's discords cease to vex, and joy Divine, exultant, fills my heart, and charms My spirit into bliss without alloy, Unmixed with tumult of this world's alarms : What can molest me, what my peace destroy ? Around me are the everlasting arms ! DAY AFTER DAY ON BEACHY HEAD i SHADOWS of beauty softly come and go, The clouds stoop down to kiss the earth, and prove Forgetful of the azure sky above. On every hand the birds tell soft and low Their tiny secrets, flitting to and fro, Twittering their praise, and whispering their love In notes of sweetness angels might approve For use before God's throne. Full well we know Earth loves and worships in this sacred hour, And the wind bears as incense to the skies Her perfume, hid in humble wayside flower Whose sweetness in its heart's depth hidden lies; While rolling billows with melodious power Chant the glad psalms that from her full heart rise. 7 DAY AFTER DAY ON BEACHY HEAD ii A DAY of shadows and quick-passing clouds, With gleams of sudden sunlight in between, Bringing warm gladness where dark shade has been. One moment the whole world in darkness broods, The next, rich colour all the landscape floods ; Bird-notes an instant hushed are heard again, And earth is sweeter for the cleansing rain. Type of a world of wedding robes and shrouds, Of childhood's laughter and of old men's sighs, Where never soul of man in glad content Can hold joy fast ; on strong, swift wing it flies Away it will not linger, 'tis but lent. Sunshine and rain alternate fill earth's skies, Bright joy peeps through grey sorrow's tenement. 8 DAY AFTER DAY ON BEACHY HEAD in THE boisterous wind, a rollicking sprite, Blows thistledown-bubbles across the lea, While the grass as he passes shakes with glee. The wind has been busy since dawning light Drying the tears that were shed by the night ; He has jostled the young flowers merrily, When they shuddered he laughed right lustily. He has cheered the bare fields in death's despite With his whispered promise of coming joy ; On the butterfly's wing he dropped a kiss, Then hastened away like a shamefaced boy, Afraid of his own too passionate bliss. For this frolicsome wind is young and coy, Not for him love's troubled passion, I wis ! DAY AFTER DAY ON BEACHY HEAD IV THE wind is hushed to rest, calm lies the sea, Its placid face, unmarked by furrow deep, Is dimpled like a happy child asleep ; Above the heather drones the drowsy bee Half gath'ring and half dreaming lazily. The thyme breathes out its fragrance on the steep, From out the bramble-thorns dark berries peep. Earth chants her morning psalm harmoniously, Then gathering the flow' rets to her breast, She tells them stories of the sky and sea : They listen with their little fingers prest Close to her heart in loving ecstasy. Sudden a lark shoots up from out its nest, And earth is flooded with love's melody. 10 DAY AFTER DAY ON BEACHY HEAD O'ER earth to-day the peaceful heavens bend An arch of turquoise blue, flecked here and there With pearly cloudlets floating light as air ; The browsing cattle to the landscape lend The charm we find in smile of homely friend ; Strewing the golden floor on which I fare Are jewels yellow, blue, and purple rare, Mixed with pure white, in which all colours blend. The sinking sun casts radiance on the sea, Glints on the weeds and turns them into gems Whose glowing beauty might shine fittingly In the fore-front of royal diadems. Beauty so calm and quiet seems to be An immaterial thing fashioned of dreams. ii BETHLEHEM TO-DAY in Bethlehem the Christ is born, The baby lies upon His mother's breast, Close folded as a bird within its nest. The rosy radiance of the eastern morn Hastens the lowly manger to adorn. Before the day the eager shepherds prest Into the chamber of the heavenly guest. Odours of sweetness on the air are borne From myrrh laid low before the feet of Him Who, e'er He breathed the words, 'Let there be light/ Dwelt with the Father 'mid the Seraphim, Glad with His gladness, mighty with His might. To-day heaven's music blends with earth's poor hymn, And both give welcome to the Lord of Light. 12 FRANCES WILLARD Born 1839. Died 1898 FRANCES WILLARD is dead ! is dead ! is dead ! Ring out the woful news on every wind And fill with grief the bosom of mankind. Not for one land she lived her love heav'n-fed Compassed a world ! She wove a mystic thread Enduring, strong, from heart to heart, to bind Souls consecrated ; then in emblem twined White ribbon in a knot of love, and said : ' I call you, O my sisters, by this sign : Live unto God ; let streams of home-love flood Lands far and near before its power divine Apollyon flies ! The earth on which Christ stood Reels in its weakness ; for its aid combine, Dare everything in strength of Love and God ! ' 13 JOSEPH PARKER 1848 A VILLAGE-GREEN, a knot of quiet men And women, on whose faces labour-lined The light of God has rested, and refined Nature's rough handiwork with some such grace As shone of old upon the prophet's face. Mingled with these are men of evil mind, Careless of God, and seeking but to find Amusement as they mocking cry ' Amen.' And in the midst of souls divergent stands A boy, with his first message from the Lord Burning upon his lips; his eager hand Lays added weight upon the spoken word : ' Woe unto you who heed not God's command ! For you in wrath He bares His gleaming sword.' 14 JOSEPH PARKER UNDER a Temple's roof, against whose wall The city's roar beats dully day and night, The pictured windows cast a softened light On gathered thousands, and the gold gleams fall From haloed saints, on eager faces all Intent and fixed, breathless to hear aright The preacher's words, uttered anon with might Of thunder, then with clear tones that recall A mother's whispered love heard long ago, When our lips prest dear lips no longer seen. Tenderer the words that from the man's lips flow Than those that thundered on the village-green There boyish fire, here riper wisdom's glow, And fifty troubled surging years between. 15 SAMUEL NEWTH, M.A., D.D. Died zgth January 1898 SOFT earth, lie gently on a gentle heart That seeks a resting-place beneath thy sod, Its pulsing hushed to peace at touch of God. A tired brain has wearied of the art Of teaching letters, and would dream apart A while ; the patient feet that long have trod The path of duty, fait' ring on the road, Have turned aside. Take thou feet, brain, and heart! But that which was their essence and their life Thou canst not touch ; set free from earth's constraint It rises to its home in God, its strife With matter ended. Loosed from clinging taint Of sin, to heaven's unpolluted life Our Father God Avelcomes His happy saint. 16 NATURE'S FACE A LITTLE cottage set in garden ground, A sunny pasture, where with mien sedate The meek-eyed cattle browse early and late. A clucking hen makes known to all around Her latest triumph, and the peace profound Is broken by her notes reiterate, Filled with a swelling pride insatiate. On all the silence breaks no other sound. To such a scene a heart turns lovingly, And to tired eyes dazed with the dreary street Such calm and quiet beckon temptingly To where the river and the meadow meet. London is lost for one brief minute's space, While a tired worker dreams of Nature's face. B 17 LIFE'S MUSIC WILL the music ever cease, my dearest, That has made our life a harmony divine, In tender love-notes blending your soul with mine ? The strings of all our being to truest Melody are tuned. In notes the sweetest Our hearts make happy music, nor decline To discord. My poor tones gain strength from thine, And both proclaim with fullest notes and clearest God's love, His truth, our certainty of bliss Enfolded in His arms of power and grace, Hearing the music that we could not miss Grow clearer, dearer, looking on His face, Loving each other, we hold Him nearest, So the music ne'er can cease, my dearest. 18 MISCELLANEOUS GOOD-BYE, OLD HOUSE! i GOOD-BYE, old house ! Shelter of childhood sweet, Beneath whose roof-tree foolish dreams were dreamt, Whose floors made music under tiny feet That pattered up and down unceasingly, While laughter gay made all your chambers ring. I stand and gaze on you with wistful eyes, And overhead the tender thrushes sing, Thrilling the dewy air with tones of love That rise and fall in notes of ecstasy. The clinging flowers that climb your portal old Press fragrant kisses on your cold grey wall, And clasp you in a firm yet soft embrace. For you are flow'rs, glad birds, and joyous song, Whilst I go out life's mystery to face ! 21 GOOD-BYE, OLD HOUSE ! IT GOOD-BYE, old house ! Through all the coming days, Whether I live in pleasantness or pain, Converse with friends, or walk by weary ways Through lands unknown, 'neath skies whose stars look strange, I will recall the love that made you home The love that filled your rooms with tenderness, And warmed the air that breathed among your flow'rs. In woods where birds though beautiful are dumb, Your larks and linnets shall make glad the hours Singing within my heart. And when I near That place of silence and of gloomy fear In whose dark valley all things mortal die, My spirit at the dear Lord's word shall rise And find your archetype in Paradise ! 22 A LOVE SECRET I HAVE no thoughts that jingle into rhyme. Nor any words that musically chime : Then oh ! my sweet, how can I tell to thee, In language fit, with phrase of melody, The secret rare that trembles on my tongue ? It should be murmured 'neath the pallid moon, Or poured in gush of strongest, sweetest song ; Fair flowers should give it forth with fragrant breath : The very grass your passing feet beneath Should for my soul's pure joy glad utt'rance find, And love-birds coo its sweetness to the wind. All Nature's voices I would call to me, Whisper it, streamlet ! roar it out, oh sea, ' I love my love, and dream that she loves me ! ' 2 3 BIRDS OF PASSAGE FRAIL bird of passage, afloat on the breeze, What do you dream as you lightly sway Here and there in the fading day? Do you plan your flight over southern seas To a land of languor and scented ease, Where skies of azure unflecked by grey Stoop o'er a garden far away, In which is a nest 'mid the orange-trees Sheltered by softest greenery ? And, dreading drear winter's icy rod, Do you long for the south-land's witchery, As yearns the soul for fields by angels trod, Weary of this grey world and fain to fly For light and sunshine to its home in God ? 24 ON THE CLIFFS AT the foot of the hills of sweetness, In a shimmer of silver light, The sea in its cup of beauty is filled Full to the lip with delight. The petulant cry of a sea-gull Ripples faint through a mist of heat ; And with softened roar blue wavelets break Far below, where the white cliffs meet The mystical beauty and glory Of the water's passionless kiss, Warm as the lips of a little child Whose touch thrills with innocent bliss. Through the greenness of grass at my feet Flit blue butterflies here and there, 25 ON THE CLIFFS Side by side with their brothers in brown, Less gaudy, yet hardly less fair ; And the blue of the butterfly's wing Lies light on the blue of the flow'r That clouds the soft roll of the hill, With a sky fallen down in a show'r ! From the arch of the heaven above The song of a bird drips to earth, With a lazy drop in its music, A note choked by heat at its birth. Afar on the clear sapphire water Drift the boats in a tranquil dream, With their sails, clear-cut as a cameo, Shining white in the sun's hot beam. Oh ! God of ineffable beauty, Thy feet tread man's earth to-day ; Made glad with the sight of Thy glory, We dream that Thou comest to stay ! 26 A LOST SOUL ' As a dream when one awaketh/ the vision of life has fled, And my naked spirit shivers in the dwelling of the dead, Where the skies are grey and sunless, and the winds are damp and cold, Charged with the icy breath of death, and the taint of graveyard mould. On the earth that I have left are flowers, and birds flit through the air, The fields with corn are yellow, and God's sun- shine is everywhere ; 27 A LOST SOUL This place is a hollow silence, no flower can raise its head, Save the ghost of earth's forget-me-not, fit com- rade for the dead ! On earth I was clothed royally with the beauty of a queen, Men lavished their love upon me, and women vented their spleen ; Here the ghosts of my lovers haunt me with hollow mocking eyes, And with soundless voices hail me their Serpent of Paradise. I long for my fleshly covering of pink and creamy white, With its pulses hot with passion and its senses of delight ; 28 A LOST SOUL Here my spirit has no hiding-place, no covert from the storm, I have no body to shelter it, no blood to keep it warm. I am unclothed, not 'clothed upon' with any house from heaven, And through trackless wastes of nothingness my naked soul is driven ; I have lived unto the flesh, and its corruption now I reap, The life that I lived is dead but the ghost of it cannot sleep ! 29 THE LAND OF SUNLIT SKIES O LAND of sunlit skies ! Land where the children dream, And veiled in golden mist The eyes of angels gleam. Vanished your borders fair And your glad hills of light ! Where heedless of the hours We wandered in delight Wandered and lost our way, Caught in a maze of bloom That turned to poison-vines And buried us in gloom. 30 THE LAND OF SUNLIT SKIES Yet still within our grave Faint voices seem to sound, Telling us we are missed, Whispering we are found. And stirring, as in sleep, Our clouded spirits hear The tender tones of love That make home's atmosphere. Our ' Elder Brother ' calls : ' Ye little children, come, Back where the Father waits And bids you welcome home.' Back to the sunlit skies, The land where children dream, And veiled in golden mist The eyes of angels gleam ! THE CRY OF THE PILGRIMS ' HERE we have no continuing city, We seek one to come.' Our feet are bleeding, And our haggard eyes should move God's pity ! When will our march be done ? When shall our yearning souls be satisfied, Our hearts' wild pulsing lulled to quietness, And our whole being in thy peace abide, O city of the blest ? The way we tread is thick with dead men's bones, The sky is lurid, and the ground beneath Is sharp with thorns and briers, and rough stones Blister our weary feet. 3 2 THE CRY OF THE PILGRIMS Shadows of Tearfulness and doom are near, Breathings of hell and darkness compass us, Our hope lies dead, shot through with cruel spear Of rankling doubt and dread. Lost, lost ! we wail, and through the gath'ring gloom The echo of our voices answers us ; No shining towers from the grey mist loom, And cold rain smites our flesh. e Here we have no continuing city, We seek one to come.' Our feet are bleeding, And our haggard eyes should move God's pity ! When will our march be done ? 33 GOD'S ANSWER TO THE CRY OF THE PILGRIMS AH, blinded souls ! So bound by time and sense, That eyes and feet alike cling to the clay, Fling arms of faith round God's omnipotence, And bright will grow the way ! The road, to tired feet so dark and long, Is quickly passed; when clasped in love's embrace The child lies passive in arms warm and strong, Close to the Father's face. Let straining limbs relax and quiet lie, Feeling God's pulses underneath your own : You live in Him, with Him you cannot die, Grisly despair has flown ! 34 GOD'S ANSWER TO THE PILGRIMS ' The God and Father ' of your blessed Lord Is God and Father of your spirits too, Doubt not His promises, trust the Holy Word Committed unto you. The city of your dreams is hid from eyes Whose lids are weighted with earth's heaviness, Only faith's vision fleshly things defies And views its palaces. The germ of all things outward is within, There is God's kingdom, there His dwelling- place ; Make clean the chambers of your souls from sin And look upon His face ! 35 PERCHANCE ' GIVE me a song ! ' Cried the singer : ' Passionate, sweet, Perfect, complete One to linger All the day long.' ' Give me a thought ! ' Cried the poet : < Clothe it with light, Let music bright Ripple through it, By heaven taught.' 36 PERCHANCE ' Give me a touch ! ' Cried the painter : 'Delicate, sure, Vivid and pure, Daintily clear, Not hard over much. ' A sight of God ! ' Cried the prophet : ' This be my aim ; Let my soul claim Its fill of it, Spurning the clod.' Hushed is the voice Of the singer. 37 PERCHANCE Life's hope lies dead, Music has fled, Loth to linger Where none rejoice. The poet's thought Sinks to pain. Harsh are its cries, Mingled with sighs, Tiring his brain Anguish distraught. Magic of touch, What is it worth ? Facing the grave, Can it make brave ? Or save from wrath One who sins much ? 38 PERCHANCE God's prophet bold Proves but human. Falling from grace, Turning his face From God to man, Passion grows cold. Smitten ideal, Where is it flown ? Lies it quite slain, Never again To roll the stone Or rend the seal ? God only knows ! Perchance once more 39 PERCHANCE Purer, dearer, With eyes clearer, On the Home Shore Its beauty glows ' 40 LIFE AND DEATH DEATH is naught ! and life is all ! See the sunshine on the wall ! Hear the humming of the bees, Watch the birds among the trees. Death is naught ! and life is all ! Listen to your child's low call, Kiss the peach-bloom of its cheek : Joy is yours, not far to seek ! Death is naught ! and life is all ! See your daughter fair and tall, Looking into other eyes In whose depths love's glamour lies. LIFE AND DEATH Life is naught ! and death is all ! Moaning bitterly you call ! Watching for the purple light Of the dawn that ends the night. Life is naught ! and death is all ! ' Ah ! dear daughter, hear me call ! Does the grave-dust dull your ears ? I will melt it with my tears.' Life is naught ! and death is all ! On your face you weeping fall, But the dead hear not, nor heed Your heart-break and bitter need. Death is naught ! and life is all ! From the sky I hear a call, While eternity endures Love and life shall still be yours ! 42 VISIONS OF THE DEAD BRIGHT visions of the dead, wafted on the scent Of eglantine and mignonette with thyme-leaves blent, Float through the still dwelling of my dreaming soul, Filling its fair chambers with phantoms won- derful. Gay troops of little children, with eyes of light, Beckon to meadows beautiful with flow'rs be- dight, Where streams of living waters in silence flow, Or laughing into music, babble as they go. 43 VISIONS OF THE DEAD The children vanish, and in their places stand Fair forms of youthful beauty, ripened in a land Where sorrow comes not, and where care lies dead; Buried beneath the blossoms of hopes perfected. They pass with music and soft sound of singing, And after them come God's mature ones, bringing Crowns of achievement, bright with gems and gold Wrought in the furnace of afflictions manifold. From out the throng, eyes that I love smile on me, Dear lips that I have hungered for once more I see, Strong arms and welcoming outstretch in greeting, And tenderest voices call me to love's meeting. 44 VISIONS OF THE DEAD The dream slips backward, the vision fades away, As melt the purple splendours of the dying day, Leaving the earth with night-dews on her face, And chill winds sighing through her darkened dwelling-place. 45 AIRS of delicate sweetness Fan a sward of tenderest green, Gleaming with flash of dewdrops And sunny hawk-weed's yellow sheen. With the hot blood of summer Running quick through its tawny veins, Dreaming not of the reaper, Harvest rustles its golden grains. Here and there among corn-stalks Are childlike eyes of blue speedwell Shining amid red poppies, And pink flow' rets of pimpernel. 46 AIRS OF DELICATE SWEETNESS Away on the horizon Mingles a mist of sky and sea, Out of whose purple glamour A gull's white wing gleams suddenly. On all the radiant landscape Lies the soft touch of Sabbath calm, The insects chirp responsive To the glad meadow-pipit's psalm. Jewels to deck the altar Shine blue in the butterfly's wing, And the thistle's royal amethyst Glows round the footstool of our King. Lord of our love and longing, Shine out through the dew of the morn. Come forth in all Thy beauty, And walk as of old through the corn ! 47 THE CRY OF THE BIRDS ' All the world over, where birds have a bright-coloured plumage, the same destructive war has been waged, with a result that may be imagined when we remember that for twenty-five years the fashion has been universal, and that it was estimated nine years ago that twenty or thirty millions of birds were annually imported by this country to supply the home demand.' HARK ! there 's a cry from the dove-cotes And a wail comes from the nests, Where are hushed the tender love-notes That fluttered from little breasts. The birds of the air are troubled, Their song is a song of fear, And when joy should be joy doubled, The shadow of death is near. 48 THE CRY OF THE BIRDS They say : ' Men have slain their thousands And their tens of thousands for sport, But the millions of the sea-sands To the women are as nought ! On our nuptial day they tear us From the nests that we have built, And under the sky God gave us Our innocent blood is spilt. It cries to the God of Heaven, And the angels' songs are blurred, For our tiny notes God-giv'n, On earth are no longer heard. Will no woman have compassion, And in God's name make a stand 'Gainst the devil's latest fashion, And defy his dark command ? ' D 49 THE VOICE OF THE WIND THOU lovest me ! (The wind says so) He comes to me And laughs, Ho, ho ! He speaks alway Of thee, my dear Of thy blue eyes Liquid and clear. He whispers low, Sweet is his voice When he names thee, My heart's dear choice. 5 THE VOICE OF THE WIND Thou lovest me ! (The wind says so) For all my life, Sweet, is it so ? MARGUERITE MY Marguerite ! So passing sweet, With eyes profound, Where Love is found Hushed in a dream : Ah ! joy extreme To waken him. My Marguerite ! Whose little feet Tread daintily And pleasantly The flow'ry way, Where I would stray In glad pursuit ! 52 MARGUERITE My Marguerite ! Whose hands that meet And fold in prayer, If I might dare, Should nest in mine As in a shrine : Ah, haste the day ! My Marguerite ! Whose cheeks compete With cream and rose ; No flow'r that blows Is half so fair With beauty rare, That my heart knows. My Marguerite ! Whose red lips meet 53 MARGUERITE With rose-leaf touch, I would give much With love thereon To lay my own In ownership. 54 TWO VIEWS OF LOVE ' Love is a bubble, Love is a trouble. 1 JOHN OLIVER HOBBES. LOVE is a joy, Love is a bliss, Love in its pain Is happiness. Love is a blossom, A bud, a flower, All things beautiful Are its dower. Its very cross Is a sign divine Of love eternal, Without decline : 55 TWO VIEWS OF LOVE In spite of sin And sorrow and curse, Love is the soul Of the universe. A PRAYER OUR day of life, O Lord, is nearly spent, Its sunlit hours are trooping fast away, The quiet twilight of old age is lent A while, that in its peace our souls may pray. We pray to Thee, O Lord, life-giving God, Who breathing in our nostrils made us men, Breathe on our souls, that, rising from earth's clod, They may take angel form and live again. 57 Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press 's (^Announcements The Flower of the Mind : a Choice among the best Poems, made by ALICE MEYNELL. Crown 8vo. 6s. A Book of Verses for Children. Compiled by E. V. LUCAS, with cover, title-page, and end-papers designed in colours by F. D. BEDFORD. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. Spikenard : a Book of Devotional Love Poems, with cover designed by the AUTHOR. Small 410. 35. 6d. net. 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