1892 
 
 JOSEPH WHITTAKER. 
 
 
POEMS. 577? 
 
 us 
 Ac 
 
 I'.Y 
 
 JOSEPH WHITTAKER. 
 
 WOLVERHAMPTOX : 
 
 A II T II UR WHITE HEAD, 
 
 75 SHKPIIEUD STREET. 
 
 1892. 
 
WOLVERHAMPTOX : 
 WHITEHEAD BROS.. PRINTERS. 
 
CON T E N T 8 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE FIRST-FRUITS ... ... ... 7 
 
 A HALT BY THE WAY ... ... ... 12 
 
 DEATH'S ARTIFICE ... ... ..; 39 
 
 THE WORLD'S DESPAIR ... ... 3! 
 
 CRUSHED ... ... ... .^ (i 
 
 PARODISTS ... ... gy 
 
 SONNET ... ... ... 4^ 
 
 REST AND SLEEP ... ... 41 
 
 OLD SONGS ... ... ... 43 
 
 PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN ... 44 
 
 IN THE GRASS =,, 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A BALLADE OF THE PYRAMID-BUILDERS ... ... 53 
 
 THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST ... ... 55 
 
 THE WORLD FORGETTING ... ... ... 07 
 
 BY THE WORLD FORGOT ... ... ... 'is 
 
 THE WORLD'S REMORSE ... ... ... 61) 
 
 THE BETTER SINGER ... ... ... 70 
 
 A QUESTION AND A HOPE ... ... ... 73 
 
 THE GLACIER ... ... ... ... 75 
 
 LOVE ... ... ... ... ... 80 
 
 A SUMMER DAY ... ... ... , ... 81 
 
 UNDER A RAILWAY BRIDGE ... ... ... <s4 
 
 A LETTER ... ... ... ... 85 
 
 IN FETTERS AND DARKNESS ... ... ... yi 
 
 JACK AND JILL ... ... ... ... 92 
 
 MIGHT HAVE BEEN y<; 
 
THE FIRST-FRUITS. 
 
 The first-fruits of a life are here ; 
 
 The first fruit off' a lowly tree 
 That sprang up in a barren, dretir, 
 And lifeless soil, with no light near, 
 
 Save the dull glare of Misery. 
 
 It lived, and struck its roots down deep 
 
 In a hard, inhospitable mould 
 Of want, and grief, and eares that keep 
 Young lives in chains ; like prisoned sheep, 
 
 Starving forgotten in their fold. 
 
THE FIRST-FRUITS. 
 
 Life watered it with bitter tears 
 
 From sullen clouds of discontent ; 
 More fierce than fire which burns and sears 
 The waters fed its gnawing fears, 
 
 And scorching through its being went. 
 
 A poisonous atmosphere it breathed, 
 
 Tainted with brutish vice and sin ; 
 But a grimy tendril of hope enwreathed 
 The young tree round, and it was sheathed, 
 Yet a few harmful germs crept in. 
 
 Stray thoughts that better it had not known, 
 And dreams that wrought it little good ; 
 That if it rightly had its own 
 It would not brood out there, alone, 
 Its young life withered in the bud. 
 
 And yet that tree grew up apace, 
 
 No graceful plant, but gaunt and rude, 
 
THE FIRST-FRUITS. 
 
 Through struggling to behold the face 
 Of the .sun, that sometimes on that place 
 Smiled, and lit up its solitude. 
 
 It loved to look upon his face, 
 
 And, humbly drinking in his light, 
 None seeing it would find a trace 
 Of thoughts that there would riot and race 
 Like meteors on a frosty night, 
 
 At night-time, when the stars came out, 
 
 And through the skies the dead moon sailed, 
 It watched their pilgrimage devout 
 Through Space's Wilderness of Doubt, 
 Till on the verge the morning paled. 
 
 While others slept it watched the stars, 
 And thought of many curious things ; 
 Of life's incessant frets and jars, 
 And that dumb mystery which debars 
 From knowing what the future brings ; 
 
10 THE FIRST-FRUITS. 
 
 The problems, keyless and abstruse, 
 
 Of life and death, and chance, and change : 
 
 Till thought, bewildered, Avould refuse 
 
 Its office, and the young recluse 
 
 Would pass the night in dreamings strange. 
 
 Sometimes the wind bestirred its leaves. 
 
 And, lingering with a drowsy sound, 
 Like some great river that receives 
 The humble stream that towards it cleaves, 
 And, merging, flows on seaward bound ; 
 
 It listened to the yearnings wild 
 
 Of this neglected one, and then 
 With stories wonderful beguiled 
 The hours away, till with a mild 
 Caress it went, but came again. 
 
 And pleasant were the tales it told, 
 Impregnate with delicious hopes ; 
 
THE FIRST-FRUITS. 11 
 
 HOAV, fur-off', Avas a Land of Gold, 
 Where mighty rivers seaward rolled, 
 
 And forests crowned the mountain slopes. 
 
 And, by the magic of the wind, 
 
 it heard the voices of a wood 
 Adjacent, and the tree repined, 
 And wished that it were free, to Hud 
 
 And join that noble brotherhood. 
 
 Be patient, then the wind would say, 
 And with the years in strength expand 
 
 Thy branches to the living Day ; 
 
 And 1 will carry far away 
 
 To where the forest monarchs stand, 
 
 The story of thy lonely youth, 
 
 And, listening to thy dreams, maybe 
 They will not heed thy form uncouth, 
 And deem thee of their race in truth, 
 Though nurtured in such misery. 
 
12 THE FIRST-FUUITS. 
 
 And iii that hope it was content 
 To live its life in loneliness, 
 
 While many summers came and went ; 
 
 Till, suddenly, the dreamings pent 
 So long within its heart's recess 
 
 One summertime burst into flower, 
 
 Which slowly ripened into fruit 
 
 That hung neglected many an hour, 
 
 For it was plain, and passing sour ; 
 
 But bitter fruit had bitter root. 
 
 That fruit is here, and ye who read 
 
 The fancies that this book contains, 
 And, climbing heights that God ward' lead, 
 May wonder at its gloomy creed, 
 The pessimism of its strains, 
 
 Sneer not ; one view of life it takes. 
 Though out of touch with life it seems 
 
THE FIRST-FRUITS. 13 
 
 The skylark that the earth forsakes 
 And, soaring, heaven with song awakes, 
 As on its wings the sunlight gleams, 
 
 May sing a happier, brighter song 
 Than birds that fly less far away ; 
 
 But if the lark were placed among 
 
 The lowlier and graver throng, 
 
 He might be just as sad as they. 
 
A HALT BY THE WAY. 
 
 Long had I slumbered in the House of Life, 
 
 Oblivious of the never-sleeping world, 
 
 When, waking Avith a sense of great delight, 
 
 A pleasure new and wonderful in being, 
 
 I grew impatient of the long restraint 
 
 Of brooding with Unconsciousness in the Void, 
 
 And broke the bonds and passed into the world ; 
 
 And the world \vas all so sweet and full of beauty, 
 
 The memory of the old life passed away. 
 
 I rambled up a long, delightful lane 
 Where summer reigned for ever ; all the trees 
 Ju foliage ever green and fair were drest, 
 And not a branch but had its singing bird, 
 
A HALT UY THE WAY. 1,5 
 
 Whose melodies were so tender and divine 
 I could not help but imitate their songs ; 
 And all about me bloomed unfading flowers, 
 Whose fragrance breathed a blessing as I passed. 
 
 On, on I went ; now on a mossy bank 
 
 Reclining, and adoring the blue sky ; 
 
 Or weaving garlands of the sweetest flowers 
 
 And decking with a lovely crown my head ; 
 
 Now I would turn to chase a butterfly, 
 
 Or hear the humming of a passing bee : 
 
 Anon I walked beside a little brook 
 
 That leaped and laughed and babbled on its way, 
 
 And wondered whence it came and where it went ; 
 
 Or lay and watched the water running bv, 
 
 And. looking furiously into its depths, 
 
 Would laugh to see my face reflected there. 
 
 How long I sported in that pleasant lane 
 J do not know, men call it nianv years ; 
 
16 A HALT BY THE WAY. 
 
 To me, engrossed in happiness, it seemed 
 That I had only passed away an hour 
 Of life in that delightful fairyland, 
 Gathering roses all along the way, 
 And careless of the world that lay beyond ; 
 When, as I stopped to listen to the full, 
 Rich melody of a throstle, perched among 
 The branches of a venerable tree 
 That rustled dreamily above my head, 
 A mighty sound broke in upon my ears, 
 And silenced suddenly that matchless song : 
 And such a song I never heard again. 
 
 I turned my head to listen to the sound. 
 
 It thundered far beyond the quiet lane, 
 
 And yet it seemed so near my heart beat wild 
 
 And fast, so full of meaning w;ts the sound. 
 
 A sound it was of many waters meeting 
 And rushing to a wild and stormy ocean : 
 
A HALT BY THE WAT. 17 
 
 The stern and solemn roar of many forests ; 
 
 The stifling rasping moan of burning deserts ; 
 
 The loud commotion of the battling thunders, 
 
 The hiss of lightnings rushing in between them ; 
 
 And, roaring high above the ceaseless tumult 
 
 Of warring elements was a deeper sound, 
 
 Sterner and deeper in its wild unrest ; 
 
 As of the steady tramp of many feet 
 
 In vast processions over trembling ground : 
 
 A long sonorous hum of many voices ; 
 
 Grim laughter of an army marching on 
 
 To battle, singing loud triumphal songs ; 
 
 A sound of building up and pulling down ; 
 
 A soft, delicious murmur far away, 
 
 Where Love and Pleasure kept their marriage-feast ; 
 
 And, under all, a long and bitter wail 
 
 As of great armies trampled under foot ; 
 
 A sound of clashing swords and gurgling blood, 
 
 Of clanking fetters and despairing moans ; 
 
 I did not hear it then, I hear it now. 
 
18 A HALT BY THE WAY. 
 
 I only heard the grandeur of the sound, 
 I did not hear the the cruel undertone. 
 
 I did not wonder at the sound ; I knew 
 
 Full well its meaning and from whence it came ; 
 
 It was the world that I had come to seek, 
 
 The lovely worli of which I dreamed so much, 
 
 And knew so little ; yes, it was the world. 
 
 And as I listened, deafened by the din, 
 
 A voice thrilled through the air and called to me 
 
 " Come, we have waited here these many years 
 
 For thee ; thou must not linger anv more. 
 
 Thy days of careless happiness are gone ; 
 
 Thou must exchange thy innocent content 
 
 For the burning, ardent restlessness of life. 
 
 Thy place is here ; here in the broadening ranks ; 
 
 And we have richer things to offer thee 
 
 Than thou hast ever dreamt of ; all the world 
 
 With eager faces wait to see thee come : 
 
A HALT BY THE WAY. 19 
 
 Fortune awaits tliee, and will crown thy brow 
 
 With an immortal diadem of fame. 
 
 A kingdom among men is thine to win, 
 
 And, throned in glory high above their heads, 
 
 Thou shalt attain thy heart's utmost desire. 
 
 And there is One who longs to see thy face, 
 
 To nestle in abandon at thy heart, 
 
 And cling to thee adoring to the end ; 
 
 Dost thou not hear her calling ? She is Love, 
 
 And Love's entreaties no man may withstand." 
 
 And then a silvery voice was borne to me : 
 " Why dost thon linger in those loveless shades ; 
 Wilt thou not come, or must I come to thee ? 
 Lo, here I wait for thee to seek my side, 
 That I may charm the beauty of the world 
 Into thy life, and yet thou wilt not come ; 
 But hesitatcst, lost in indolence. 
 Thy journey will be long and full of grief 
 If I am not with thee to cheer the wav : 
 
20 A HALT BY THE WAT. 
 
 Men will abhor thee if I am not with thee ; 
 
 Without me all the glory of the world 
 
 Will be invisible and unfelt by thee ; 
 
 Though all the world should worship at thy feet, 
 
 And all the spoils of life and time be thine ; 
 
 Though thou wert as a monarch among men, 
 
 Yet all thy great dominion would be vain 
 
 And joyless unto thee, were I not with thee, 
 
 And thou wouldst travel to the end alone. 
 
 Love, I have waited many years for thee ; 
 
 I hunger for thy presence, and to look 
 
 Upon thy face and read thy destiny ; 
 
 Wilt thou not come, or must I come to thee ? " 
 
 Before the silver cadence died away 
 In delicate music on the listening air 
 With burning pulse I hastened on the way 
 To claim my love and mingle with the world. 
 I saw no more the beauty all around me, 
 J went to regions lovelier than tlicv : 
 
A HALT BY THE WAY. 21 
 
 I did not hear the music of the birds, 
 
 I went to hear the symphonies of life ; 
 
 I did not hear the murmur of the brook, 
 
 I heard afar the thunder of the sea ; 
 
 And though I heard the aged forest trees 
 
 Murmur incessantly, " Come back, come back," 
 
 I hurried on and would not heed their voice. 
 
 Still onward, and more wide the pathway grew, 
 
 And nearer came the music of the world ; 
 
 Till, as I passed below a giant tree, 
 
 Love met me and we hastened on together ; 
 
 And oh, but life was sweet when we two met ! 
 
 I did not think there had been such delight 
 
 In life, until I kissed her lovely lips, 
 
 And heard her, as she clung about my neck, 
 
 Chide me for hiding from her face so long. 
 
 Still nearer came the thrilling roar of Life, 
 And all my being trembled Avith desire 
 To learn the manv secrets of the world ; 
 
22 A HALT BY THE WAV. 
 
 And when I lagged behind Love urged me on 
 
 With many a sweet caress to greater speed. 
 
 15 nt often, when I heard the forest trees 
 
 Murmur beseechingly, "Come back, come back, 1 ' 
 
 I hesitated, and as I looked back 
 
 Upon the well-loved scenes I had left behind, 
 
 1 felt a shrinking from the noisy world, 
 
 And longed to turn my feet towards the ways 
 
 Of old, and wander there until 1 died. 
 
 But Love, who knew my thoughts, would weep and say : 
 
 " Thou must not leave me now, I have need of thee. 
 
 Thou must not tarry longer from the world, 
 
 Consuming all thy life in childish dreams ; 
 
 And thou must live not for thyself alone ; 
 
 Thy life is consecrated to the world, 
 
 To serve it in its hour of bitter need ; 
 
 And he who shrinks from entering the tight 
 
 That struggles evermore towards the Good, 
 
 And passes out his life in idle dreams, 
 
 And lives not for the world but for himself, 
 
A HALT BY THE WAV. 23 
 
 Is as a wastrel, as a useless drone, 
 
 And is despised us such by God and men. 
 
 Come, rest is not for thee ; work in the day, 
 
 At night death gives a plenitude of rest." 
 
 And half-resisting she would lead me on, 
 
 While far behind the forest cried, " Come back ! " 
 
 And so at last we came into the world. 
 
 A mighty road it was, where many met ; 
 A mighty road that seemed to have no end. 
 And ever down this mighty road there went 
 A vast procession of men, and this was Life. 
 There were no trees, and seldom any flowers ; 
 I could not hear one little singing-bird. 
 I shuddered, and I said despondently, 
 "Is this the glorious world? I like it not. 
 I will go back ; this world is not for me." 
 But when with sweet Love weeping at my side 
 I turned again, the pleasant way was barred 
 
24 A HALT BY THE WAY. 
 
 By an old man with a goblet in his hand. 
 
 " Let me go back," I said, " 1 hate the world ; 
 
 Let me go back, where I have been so long." 
 
 The old man shook his white head, and replied ; 
 
 " It is too late, thou must go forward now. 
 
 Know this, that life is ever moving on, 
 
 And never rests, for rest is bitter death ; 
 
 And none who enters on the ways of life 
 
 May ever backward turn his weary steps ; 
 
 No, every man goes forward, backward none. 
 
 Yet if the prospect daunts thee, if thy heart 
 
 Shrinks back unwilling from the onward march, 
 
 Drink of this goblet, and thou shalt have peace, 
 
 And all thy travels shall be ended here : 
 
 It is a marvellous drink, its name is Death." 
 
 I tasted it : it had a bitter taste, 
 -But yet I would have drained it to the dregs 
 Had not Love dashed the goblet from my lips : 
 " Come, come away," she cried, " What wouldst thon do ? 
 
A HALT BY THE WAY. 25 
 
 Have I not said the world has need of thee, 
 And thou wouldst fly, a traitor, from the ranks ? 
 The ways of life are rugged and very hard, 
 But they are smoother than the ways of Death, 
 And thou wilt grow to love them ere the end. 
 We sought each other, Death will seek us both ; 
 And thou wilt say that he has come too soon. 
 See, how that old carl laughs thee in the face ! " 
 And then she led me lovingly away. 
 And here I stand, my arm about her waist, 
 Watching the vast procession sweeping past, 
 And thinking of the old life and the new ; 
 A quiet halt before we journey on 
 And mingle with the multitudes of life. 
 
 Oh, happy" days, - how swiftly ye were gone, 
 How soon the morn and noontide passed away ! 
 I loved each day for all the good it brought, 
 And strangely dear in death they seem to me. 
 Life by its very [sweetness ^wearies life ; 
 
26 A HALT BY THE WAY. 
 
 If more beclouded days had been my lot 
 
 I should have valued more the happy ones. 
 
 We never miss the song till it is sung ; 
 
 We never fully realise the joy 
 
 In living till death stares us in the face, 
 
 And then we long to live our lives again. 
 
 Oh, dreamy ways of youth, now ye are gone 
 
 I wish that I could tread you once again. 
 
 I hunger for the pleasures that I missed 
 
 When, hastening eagerly to see the world, 
 
 I spurned the loving-cup youth proffered me. 
 
 Life was to me a fairyland of dreams ; 
 
 That life had stern realities to teach 
 
 I never dreamed, they were so far away ; 
 
 But now I know Reality's bitter face. 
 
 I stand upon the broad highway of life, 
 
 And look with tearful eyes down the long road ; 
 
 Morning has gone, my face is to the night, 
 
 And I shall never, never be young again. 
 
A HALT BY THE WAV. 2i 
 
 lint Love is with ine, and J have no fear. 
 
 Her golden head is nestling on my breast, 
 
 And, as I bend and kiss her laughing lips, 
 
 I zim content that Life has given rue her, 
 
 And she shall never leave me till the end. 
 
 We look on life's procession, Love and I, 
 
 And, as 1 idly criticise the world, 
 
 I realise how much I owe to Love, 
 
 How bitter life without her face would be, 
 
 HOAV bare and desolate would be the world. 
 
 I hear a peasant sing his lowly song, 
 
 But when Love bids me hear it seems divine ; 
 
 I see God's image in all things that live, 
 
 I see His eyes in every face I see, 
 
 I hear His voice in the sobbings of despair, 
 
 I feel His presence in the house of death, 
 
 And everywhere I see His glory shine 
 
 When Love Avith radiant features walks with me. 
 
 But life is very bitter with dead hopes. 
 
28 A HALT BY THE WAY. 
 
 The way that we must go is very hard, 
 
 And though we toiled with never a rest between, 
 
 Until we reached the end, we yet should leave 
 
 A multitude of wearying tasks undone ; 
 
 There are so many things we wish to do, 
 
 And life is all too short to do them all. 
 
 But Love will never let my heart despair, 
 
 And whispers : " We must labour as we go ; 
 
 No matter if the way be short or long, 
 
 No matter if the labour seem in vain, 
 
 We must work on, undreaming of reward ; 
 
 We know that it is good and right to toil, 
 
 And we should wish for only one reward 
 
 To look back when the day is nearly done, 
 
 And feel that we have laboured all the while 
 
 To make the world the better for our being, 
 
 And that a few will miss us when the end 
 
 Is reached, and we have vanished in the night. 
 
 Although we know not what the end will be, 
 
 Eternal night or everlasting day, 
 
A H.ALT BY THE WAY. 29 
 
 We must not always think of it in fear ; 
 The time is drawing nigh when we shall know ; 
 And we shall bear it better if we can think 
 That Life will bless us when the end is reached, 
 And wish that it might call us back again." 
 
 So down the solemn road of life I go, 
 With Love beside me singing joyously. 
 Leaving the dreamy ways of youth behind, 
 And pressing onward in the ranks of Life ; 
 Till we have passed below the gloomy Cloud 
 That lowers perpetually far down the road ; 
 Till both have drunk the potion in the cup 
 That old man bears, and we have passed away 
 To that dark place we sometimes see in dreams, 
 Where silence slumbers deeply through the night. 
 
DEATH'S ARTIFICE. 
 
 It came to pass that Death repented him, 
 
 When he perceived the agony of men ; 
 
 How that they shuddered and were speechless when 
 
 Across their thresholds fell his shadow grim ; 
 
 And, looking np beseechingly at dim, 
 
 Far heavens above them, saw no hope, and then 
 
 Cursed wildly this great dread beyond their ken, 
 
 Which filled their cup of sorrow to the brim. 
 
 So he called the angel Hope from heaven's fair race, 
 That with her wondrous beauty she might blind 
 The eyes of those who, with foreboding mind, 
 Waited to hear Death's foot within the place : 
 That worshipping the glory of Her face, 
 They might not see His face who stool behind. 
 
THE WORLD'S DESPAIR. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 We pray, it is fruitless ; 
 
 Our prayers reach no shore ; 
 
 We will labour no more, 
 
 For our labours are bootless. 
 
 Of the seeds we are sowing 
 
 We never may reap ; 
 
 We live, never knowing 
 
 How soon we may sleep. 
 
 To the mind of a man steals a vision divine, 
 He labours long years to embody his dream, 
 And it dazzles at last all the world with its gleam ; 
 But he knows not his triumph, who planned the design ; 
 Death's silence is deep. 
 
32 THE WORLD'S DESPAIR. 
 
 Our labours abide not, 
 
 Our visions are vain ; 
 
 In the mirthfullest strain 
 
 Our griefs we may hide not. 
 
 With ceasless endeavour 
 
 We labour to fail ; 
 
 Though we toiled on for ever 
 
 X 
 
 What would it avail ? 
 
 There is nothing so sweet but is sour at the last 
 In the core of the apple a worm is concealed ; 
 On eternity's dial, a moment revealed, 
 The grandest of lives as a shadow is cast ; 
 Even love groweth stale. 
 
 By a Shape we are haunted 
 That darkens our lives ; 
 Chained with shadowy gyves 
 We press onward undaunted. 
 We rush to the battle, 
 And He laughs behind ; 
 
THE WORLD'S DESPAIR. 33 
 
 In the roar and the rattle 
 
 Grim sport will he find. 
 In the tumult of labour we seek to forget 
 The doom of the world, hut we cannot escape ; 
 In the making and breaking of empires a Shape 
 Despoiling the spoilers is seen not, and yet 
 Is dimly divined. 
 
 No ! \Ve cannot forget it, 
 
 Nor laugh it to scorn ; 
 
 From life's simple morn 
 
 Does the question beset it. 
 
 Above the wild laughter 
 
 Of man at his tasks, 
 
 What come* for thee after? 
 
 The invisible asks. 
 
 The face of the monarch is clouded with care, 
 In the Poet's wild eyes wild entreaty is seen ; 
 Yet the world wears its holiday garments of green, 
 And seemingly mocks our corroding despair, 
 And dark faces with masks. 
 
34 THE AYORLD'S DESPAIR. 
 
 Our lives like a river 
 
 Flow on to the sea ; 
 
 We know death must be, 
 
 And our stricken hearts quiver. 
 
 We think of the pleasant 
 
 Old days that are gone ; 
 
 Our prayers are incessant, 
 
 But Time journeys on. 
 
 In the glamour of happy old days are we bound, 
 For we know that what has been shall never be more ; 
 But to-morrow may have brighter moments in store, 
 Sweeter pleasures to-day wait neglected around, 
 Yet of these we have none. 
 
 We will laugh at death's tether, 
 The world is our own ; 
 And to build a great throne 
 We will gather together ; 
 And Love in his glory 
 Shall hold us in swav, 
 
THE WORLD'S DESPAIR. 35 
 
 Till the skies become hoary, 
 And the planets decay. 
 
 And they wrought a magnificent crown for Love's head, 
 And the world went to crown him its glorious king ; 
 They found him in tears, striving vainly to hring 
 Laughing life to a girl who beside him lay dead ; 
 And the world turned away. 
 
CRUSHED. 
 
 It seemed a very trifling thing 
 
 To tread upon a humble flower ; 
 
 Its beauty was its only dower 
 
 From its adoring mother, Spring. 
 
 But was it made to kiss, then fling 
 
 Despised and broken on the ground ? 
 
 It breathed its gentle fragrance round 
 
 Where life was bare, 
 
 And flowers Avere rare, 
 
 And weeds, not blossoms, did abound. 
 
 Its sweetness soothed the sullen air, 
 
 Some said the breath of God was there ; 
 
CKUSHED. 37 
 
 And so it was a cruel thing 
 
 To trample on that humble flower. 
 
 It seemed a little thing to him 
 
 To pluck that humble cottage rose, 
 
 Whose beauty, purer than the snows, 
 
 Admiring Art despaired to limn. 
 
 Love filled the cup, and to the brim ; 
 
 They drank the potion, for an hour 
 
 They held mad revel in Love's bower, 
 
 Then hied away 
 
 The lover gay ; 
 
 He had gained the honey, the rest was sour. 
 
 The rose, no longer pure and gay, 
 He threw in the road to foul decay, 
 Despised of every weed ; 
 And there, poor plaything of a day, 
 Its heart away it grieved ; 
 Abandoned and deceived 
 
38 CRUSHED. 
 
 By one, who, shining far above, 
 
 Forgot his summer morning's love, 
 
 And went his way, and never thought 
 
 Of the destruction he had wrought ; 
 
 And fawning Conscience never laid 
 
 His black heart open, that he might read 
 
 How he had done a hellish deed, 
 
 To ruin that poor country maid. 
 
PARODISTS. 
 
 They yelp behind the shrinking Muse 
 With many a jaunty smirk and wink, 
 
 And as we hear the pack abuse 
 
 Her songs in echoes coarse, we think 
 
 Of silly parrots, taught to prate 
 And idly mock the human tongue ; 
 
 Of crows, who try to imitate 
 
 The soaring skylark's regal song. 
 
SONNET. 
 
 A lank, ungainly form, with stooping gait, 
 Despised by fools and pitied by his friends, 
 As with unsteady steps his way he wends, 
 Absorbed in the great problem of his fate. 
 A dark and gloomy face is his, for great 
 And lasting mental torture has won its ends ; 
 Yet hope in his sad eyes for ever blends 
 With fear of the coming days which they await. 
 
 You would not think, to see his sneering lips, 
 That he possessed a heart ; nor yet that he 
 Could dream of love's wild wonders passing well ; 
 That is so, but his joy is in eclipse, 
 And could you read his countenance you would see 
 Incessantly working there a mental hell. 
 
REST AND SLEEP. 
 
 Rest, placid rest ! 
 
 Many there be who seek it, 
 
 Whose longing, unconfessed, 
 
 Is all too great to speak it. 
 
 Rest, for the weary heart ; 
 
 Rest, for the throbbing brain ; 
 
 And for those who have watched a day depart, 
 
 That never will dawn again. 
 
 There is a rest for all ; 
 
 A solemn rest it i.s ; 
 
 Some think it hell, some think it bliss, 
 
 This rest which comes to all, 
 
42 REST AND SLEEP. 
 
 Whose emblem is a pall ; 
 It is a solemn rest ! 
 
 Sleep, dreamless sleep ! 
 
 Who, in the night-time lying 
 
 With terrors as of dying, 
 
 Longs not for sleep deep ? 
 
 Sleep, it is life's desire. 
 
 Sleep, for tear-dimmed eyes ; 
 
 But, ah, is there sleep for a soul on fire ?- 
 
 No, never till it dies. 
 
 Yet there is a sleep for all, 
 
 A sleep that faileth never ; 
 
 A solemn sleep, for it lasts for ever, 
 
 And the sleepers hear no call, 
 
 Nor the pattering raindrops fall ; 
 
 Truly, an awful sleep. 
 
OLD SONGS. 
 
 \Yliy is it that we love the old songs best ; 
 
 Are not the songs we sing to-day as sweet ? 
 
 Is it because the new songs but repeat 
 
 The old songs with their sadness and unrest ? 
 
 Or that we heard those songs when we were young, 
 
 In days of summer, under cloudless skies ; 
 
 And wonder, looking back with wistful eyes, 
 
 Why Death, who took the singer, spared the song ? 
 
 We know not why it should be, yet it is ; 
 And truly strange and solemn it is that we 
 Love best the face we never again shall see ; 
 Forget to-day in dreams of vanished bliss ; 
 And sometimes print on still, cold lips a kiss 
 That all through life was yearned for hopelessly. 
 
PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN. 
 
 Your hand is in mine, and you look in my face, 
 Do you know, do you think, that I love you ? 
 You utter some words that are cold, commonplace, 
 Yet my heart at the music throbs wildly, and over 
 My hungering soul a strange peace seems to hover, 
 As if there were angels above you ; 
 Invisibly guarding a beautiful queen 
 To whom the whole world were a paltry demesne. 
 
 You are lovely, you know it ; no wonder my heart 
 With a wild hopeless passion is burning ; 
 So near are we now, and yet so far apart, 
 
PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN. 45 
 
 Yes, as far as the glorious sun from the moon is ; 
 I dwell in the night, you where ever the noon is, 
 From each other our courses are turning ; 
 You are rich, I am poor, and between those two well, 
 A wider gulf yawns than between heaven and hell. 
 
 A plebeian am I, who has learned how to think, 
 
 And to dream we are sisters and brothers, 
 
 All we in this world ; who endeavours to link 
 
 Together in faint, inarticulate singing 
 
 The thoughts and strong hopes that each moment is 
 
 bringing ; 
 
 A plebeian, who scorns not the others ; 
 A child of the people, with light from above, 
 Who has learned how to think, who has learned how 
 
 to love. 
 
 A lady of wealth and position are you ; 
 
 The child of a monarch of acres, 
 
 Who glories in blood of immaculate blue, 
 
46 PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN. 
 
 A lengthy and unsullied line of ancestors, 
 
 (Vain, pompous old nobodies, none of them Xestors) 
 
 Who worshipped their kings as their makers, 
 
 And lived, swore, and hunted as well as men could, 
 
 Whose heads held a vacuum walled in by wood. 
 
 The lady of rank wed the base-blooded bard ! 
 I could laugh in your face as I think it. 
 Laugh! Easier to weep, for I think it is hard 
 That a bar of cold, glittering metal should sever 
 Two mortals whom Love might have wedded for ever ;' 
 A sorrowful cup, yet I drink it ; 
 And you never will know that the angel whom through 
 Bitter years I adored was none other than you. 
 
 I will build you a throne in the Temple of Song, 
 And though fate our two lives may dissever, 
 To me evermore shall your beauty belong, 
 Your face, dimly pictured in mystical glory, 
 For ever shall live in my life's sombre story, 
 Though your name shall be nameless for ever. 
 
PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN. 47 
 
 Weak, foolish devotion to some it may seem, 
 
 But Petrarch had his Laura, and Dante his dream. 
 
 You will marry in time, and for money, no doubt, 
 
 Some soulless and gold-loving mortal ; 
 
 But patiently I shall be waiting without, 
 
 And, working with Fate, still go on with my singing ; 
 
 The same bitter fate every day will be bringing 
 
 Him on to Oblivion's portal ; 
 
 As a faraway star on my life you will shine, 
 
 But when he is forgotten you still will be mine. 
 
 Free your hand ? Ah, yes, I have held it too long. 
 I was dreaming, and so was forgetting 
 Formality's ways ; but I meant nothing wrong, 
 And, truly, no man could abide in your presence 
 A space, without feeling a strange reflorescence 
 Of dreams that in darkness were setting ; 
 Old legends of heaven and its angels return, 
 And, looking on you, are not easy to spurn. 
 
48 PATRICIAN AND PLEBEIAN. 
 
 If you knew all the dreamings that passed through 
 
 my mind 
 
 While your beautiful hand I was holding ; 
 If my heart, with its sorrowful yearning to find 
 Its love, were laid open to-day for your seeing : 
 Perchance you would pity the curious being 
 Whom darkness and death are enfolding : 
 Who plays in Love's comedies many a part, 
 But hoards up for you all the love of his heart. 
 
 Forgetting again ! In the mildest of voices 
 You chidingly wish me good morning. 
 I will linger no more, though my spirit rejoices 
 To bask in the light of your wonderful beauty ; 
 I was bound in a spell, and forgetting my duty 
 In the dreams that your face was adorning ; 
 Good morning, fair lady, I seek once again 
 The resolute beauty of downtrodden men. 
 
 But my life shall be nobler for worshipping you 
 As my goddess of Goodness and Beauty : 
 
PATRICIAN ANI> PLEBEIAN. 49 
 
 Xot unworthy of you shall be all that I do, 
 My life shall be free from the sordid and menial 
 Passions of life ; I shall climb with congenial 
 Soul the dull ladder of duty ; 
 And, pure in desire as the star for its sun, 
 My love round your life shall for ever live on. 
 
IX THE GRASS. 
 
 " He will not think that I have been so near, 
 When he awakes him from his troubled sleep : 
 Troubled, perchance, with dreams of me, who weep, 
 That one so clear 
 
 Will only love me wildly from afar, 
 And will not speak the love that fills his eyes 
 When we two meet, because between us lies 
 A golden bar. 
 
 " He will not speak his love for stubborn pride : 
 And I I dare not, yet I long so much 
 To tell him, seeing him tremlde at my touch 
 When at his side. 
 
IN THE GRASS. 51 
 
 I have longed for a kiss of his and here to-day " 
 She blushed and hesitated, then bent down 
 And pressed her quivering lips against his own ; 
 And went away. 
 
 The snn beat down upon his quiet face ; 
 He slept on, almost hidden in the grass ; 
 He knew not who had passed his resting-place, 
 
 Yet did not pass 
 
 Till she had knelt in silence at his side ; 
 .lie did not hear the rustle of her dress ; 
 Yet, waking, for that tender, sweet caress 
 
 He would have died. 
 
 He woke at last, unwillingly, to miss 
 Her lovely face ; he did not feel the tear 
 That stained his cheek, but seemed to breathe and hear 
 Her fragrant kiss. 
 
52 IN THE GRASS. 
 
 He rose up from the grass and went his way, 
 And in his proud strong love lived on alone : 
 And never knew how near to bliss unknown 
 He was that dav. 
 
A BALLADE OF THE PYRAMID-BUILDERS. 
 
 Poets, with souls athirst for fame, 
 Whose thoughts by day and whose dreams by night 
 Feed evermore, as the wind the flame, 
 And the rivers the sea, your yearning sight 
 With gleams of the lofty, glorious height 
 Towards which as a faraway shrine ye bow ; 
 Heed if ye will a question trite 
 Where are the Pyramid-builders now ? 
 
 Who was the architect I" What his name 
 Who planned these works with wonder dight ? 
 And who were the men whose labours shame 
 This punilv-powerful age of might ? 
 
54 A BALLADE OK THE PYRAMID-BUILDERS. 
 
 Did glory their wonderful toil* requite, 
 
 Or, naked and famished, with sullen brow, 
 
 Did they work and then for their suppers fight ? 
 
 Where are the Pyramid-builders now ? 
 
 The builders have vanished as they came ; 
 But over their work the star-worlds bright 
 Have glittered for centuries, ever the same 
 Mayhap they know of the builders' plight ; 
 For the vulture above them wings his flight, 
 And through their ashes furrows the plough 
 Mocked by their Monument's speechless spite, 
 Where are the Pyramid-builders now ? 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Poets, for love in life's service tight, 
 And care not whether the world allow 
 A nameless grave or a tombstone white ; 
 Where are the Pyramid-builders now ? 
 
THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 
 
 I looked around me, and I saw 
 
 Wild madness in the hearts of men ; 
 The human foe, bloodthirsty War, 
 
 Was howling through the world again. 
 
 His jaws were dripping with human blood, 
 Great nations with his paw he crushed, 
 
 And in a ghastly, scarlet flood 
 
 Rivers of blood through the red lands rushed. 
 
 And all the world was tilled with groans 
 
 Of dying men : the bitter wail 
 Of children dashed against the stone.- : 
 
 Of women looking up with pale. 
 
56 THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 
 
 Wild faces in the Monster's eyes, 
 
 As he trampled on their quivering forms 
 
 And everyAvhere Avith hideous cries 
 
 Foul vultures fed in countless swarms. 
 
 The skies were blackened with the smoke 
 From homesteads burning to the ground ; 
 
 In cities great no footsteps broke 
 The silence where death lay around. 
 
 The world seemed paralysed with dread. 
 
 Some from the Demon sought to hide ; 
 While many a Nation placed its head 
 
 Between the bloody jaws and died. 
 
 And round the monster, feeding him, 
 Were human devils, laughing loud 
 
 At the carnage, and, though oft in grim 
 Despite he mangled that A r ile croAvd, 
 
THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 57 
 
 Over the carcases others stept, 
 
 And followed fawning in his wake ; 
 
 And while the grisly monster kept 
 
 His feast of blood, these things would take 
 
 Rich spoil from devastated lands ; 
 
 They made the world a robber's den, 
 They plucked the jewels from the hands 
 
 Of murdered women and murdered men, 
 
 They robbed the earth, and man, and God, 
 Life of the means of life was shorn, 
 
 They crushed it bleeding in the sod, 
 And in their malice burnt the corn. 
 
 Still driving Life before they Avent, 
 The Demon and these harpies foul ; 
 
 And mocked in hideous merriment 
 
 The vulture's scream, the hyena's howl. 
 
58 THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 
 
 No man resisted their advance, 
 The world in apathy was sunk ; 
 
 Onward they went in a grisly dance, 
 
 For they with human blood were drunk. 
 
 They decimated man, they made 
 
 The world a rotting field of death ; 
 
 A curse upon the earth they laid, 
 
 And choked it with their pestilent breath. 
 
 The whole world groaned beneath their feet, 
 But yet it was not all subdued ; 
 
 A famished band in a far retreat 
 Waited, in sullen solitude, 
 
 Their pitiless, ever-nearing foe, 
 
 Nor willed they for their lives to tight ; 
 They were gone mad with weight of woe. 
 
 And Aveary watching many a night. 
 
THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 59 
 
 But, when they heard him coming near, 
 
 A pallid, earnest company met 
 Of men aflame with hate and fear, 
 
 And wrongs too bitter to forget. 
 
 They raised from east to west the land 
 
 To a wild thirst for vengeance ; then 
 
 They went out in a small, stern band 
 
 To meet the Demon and his men. 
 
 And, as they went to meet their foe, 
 From many a hiding place there came 
 
 Men desperate Avith despair and woe, 
 With hearts for vengeance all aflame. 
 
 Who went with them their foe to find, 
 And to their ranks began to throng 
 
 The scattered remnants of mankind ; 
 
 And, ever growing, they marched along. 
 
60 THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 
 
 The army was not very great, 
 
 Except in unrequited wrong ; 
 But in its stern excess of hate 
 
 It might have been vast millions strong. 
 
 Onward this army marched, the ranks 
 Increasing ever more and more ; 
 
 And massing on the army's flanks, 
 Massing behind it and before, 
 
 A silent army with them Avent, 
 
 A spectral army of the dead ; 
 With ghastly faces blood besprent, 
 
 And wild eyes burning in each head. 
 
 Each had the look as when he died ; 
 
 From manv a mouth blood seemed to gush, 
 Blood, blood ; from every breast and side 
 
 The blood in torrents seemed to rush. 
 
THE SLAYING OP THE BEAST. 61 
 
 The dead had risen from the graves 
 
 Where they were huddled heap on heap, 
 
 To free the cowering, helpless slaves, 
 And vengeance manifold to reap. 
 
 It was an awful sight to see 
 
 The living army marching on, 
 Surrounded thus mysteriously 
 
 By millions of the dead and gone. 
 
 From those dead ranks there came no sound ; 
 
 They moved, but they had ceased to be ; 
 They did not seem to touch the ground ; 
 
 It was an awful sight to see. 
 
 Day after day they made their way 
 
 Through many a desolated land, 
 Where Ruin held unchallenged sway, 
 
 And corpses lay on every hand.. 
 
62 THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 
 
 It seemed as though their hearts would burst : 
 " How long," they murmured, " must this last ? " 
 
 And fiercer grew their burning thirst 
 For vengeance, seeing, as they past, 
 
 Grim corpses lying everywhere, 
 
 Staring up at the hopeless skies ; 
 And from those gory forms a prayer 
 
 For bitter vengeance seemed to rise. 
 
 They did not stop to dig a grave, 
 To hide those corpses deep below ; 
 
 One silent look at the dead they gave, 
 Then onward went to meet their foe, 
 
 They came upon the Thing at last, 
 
 Disporting in a sea of blood ; 
 He saw the dead men, and, aghast 
 
 In terror and amazement, stood 
 
THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 63 
 
 A moment, then he turned and fled ; 
 
 With an appalling scream behind 
 Him shrieked his minion?, but the dead 
 
 Were following swifter than the wind. 
 
 The dead encompassed them around, 
 The ghastly dead were everywhere ; 
 
 They hid their faces in the ground 
 
 To escape the sight ; the dead were there. 
 
 With shouts of vengeance wild and grim, 
 
 Upon their foes the living rushed ; 
 They tore the Monster limb from limb 
 
 How the world laughed when he was crushed ! 
 
 They slew the Beast, and then the Dead, 
 
 Their mission ended, passed away ; 
 Yet heightened with unearthly dread, 
 
 The clamour of the closing fray. 
 
64 THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 
 
 Swiftly and silently as they came, 
 Seeing the glorious victory won, 
 
 They passed for ever ; but still their fame 
 Through bloodless centuries thunders on. 
 
 They hung his myrmidons on high, 
 
 They did not heed their craven prayers : 
 
 And then in mocking revelry 
 
 They brought their treasure from their lairs, 
 
 And decked them as on high they swung, 
 
 With jewels and apparel line, 
 And tied to each protruding tongue 
 
 Bright trinkets that afar did shine. 
 
 And thus they hung for many a day ; 
 The birds to pick their loathsome bones 
 
THE SLAYING OF THE BEAST. 65 
 
 Refused, and there they rotted away, 
 Dead scarecrow? fixed on loftv thrones. 
 
 And so at last the world was freed 
 From this destroying Beast of Blood, 
 
 Who with the aid of human greed 
 
 Had trampled down so long the good. 
 
 Once more the earth looked up and smiled, 
 And all the world grew young again ; 
 
 The cities desolate and wild 
 
 Echoed once more the feet of men. 
 
 Hunger and famine passed away, 
 
 His fields again the farmer ploughed ; 
 For Peace resumed her golden sway, 
 at her feet the nations bowed. 
 
66 THE SLAYING OF THE I5EAST. 
 
 And Poverty and Crime became 
 
 A dream forgotten, and the swords 
 
 Were beaten down, and she whose name 
 Is Love, bound all men's hearts with cords 
 
 Of gold. While in a mighty band 
 
 Men sought and found the Highest Good : 
 
 And every land went hand in hand 
 In Universal Brotherhood. 
 
THE WORLD FORGETTING. 
 
 There was a man who built a goodly House, 
 
 A dream's fulfilment of surpassing beauty ; 
 
 And as he consecrated it to Duty, 
 
 He said : Oh, dear atonement, of old vows. 
 
 Be thou his lasting monument who endows 
 
 With a life's love thy glittering perspicuity. 
 
 Recording aye his patient ingenuity, 
 
 Who built the Shrine at which his spirit bows. 
 
 He never thought of what the world would say ; 
 The envious world, meanwhile, with spiteful sneers 
 Had watched his progress, and, with mocking jeers, 
 When on his . finished Work's superb display 
 The Builder gazed and rested the last dav. 
 They pulled his wondrous House about his ears. 
 
BY THE WORLD FORGOT. 
 
 He lay amid the ruins many years ; 
 
 Slain with his dream the Dreamer was at rest. 
 
 The beautiful bare walls still faced the West, 
 
 And told their wrongs in Time's commiserate ears. 
 
 The sombre leaf that age and death reveres 
 
 Pressed placidly the vision to its breast ; 
 
 Around about wild birds built many a nest, 
 
 And with their plaintive songs moved Grief to tears. 
 
 They lay in silence solemn and profound, 
 
 The world's discordant voices reached them not ; 
 
 The gloomy night encompassed them around, 
 
 And premature Oblivion was their lot ; 
 
 Far from the light and the life-lyre's thrilling sound, 
 
 Dead to the world, by all the world forgot. 
 
THE WORLD'S REMORSE. 
 
 The world which slew the Dreamer sought the past, 
 
 And younger generations crowded in, 
 
 Who strove, as men have ever striven, to win 
 
 The secret of the life that flies so fast. 
 
 A pilgrim from the new world came at last 
 
 Upon these tokens of a dead world's Sin, 
 
 Who had heard dim tales of One who did begin 
 
 To worship here, and then to death was cast. 
 
 And then the pitying multitudes flocked round 
 Where in his desolation He was found ; 
 And said, ' This was a noble king of men ; 
 We will rebuild his Shrine," Vain enterprise ! 
 That gorgeous Fabric none could raise again, 
 Or bring the life-light to the Builder's eyes. 
 
THE BETTER SINGER. 
 
 1 sat me down to write a song, 
 A little song to cheer the hours 
 
 For those who labour all day long ; 
 I found it was beyond my powers. 
 
 I could discourse on many things ; 
 
 Of Nature, and her votary, Art ; 
 The truths sublime that Science brings ; 
 
 I could not reach the people's heart. 
 
 My song was vain, I soared too high ; 
 
 A few admired, the many paused 
 And heard it, then they passed me by ; 
 
 No sympathetic thrills it caused. 
 
THE UETTER SINGER. 71 
 
 But when one from themselves began 
 To sing, their apathy was gone ; 
 
 And with his simple songs this 1 man 
 Controlled a million hearts as one. 
 
 He was uot learned ; his flight was low, 
 He skimmed the surface of the sea ; 
 
 And why he sang he did not know, 
 But silent he could never be. 
 
 His was a very humble song, 
 
 But men were happier hearing it ; 
 
 With hopes revived they passed along, 
 With sudden joy each face was lit. 
 
 He did not sing to lead the wise, 
 But in the haunts of grief and care 
 
 He saug of Love that never dies, 
 
 And Hope that never knows despair. 
 
THE BETTER bINGEK. 
 
 The same sweet songs in storm and shine 
 He sang, and never would be sad : 
 
 And his were better songs than mine, 
 For all the learning that I had. 
 
A QUESTION AND A HOPE. 
 
 We look upon the vast infinity of Space, 
 And feebly try to grasp the eternity of Time ; 
 And wonder if the worlds that move with silent chime 
 Will ever find the God who sent them on their race ; 
 For since to Time and Space no limits we may trace, 
 How can the universe come ever to its end, 
 Unless the Mind that framed and fashioned it should 
 
 bend 
 And call the weary worlds to rest before His face ? 
 
 Space has no bounds, so Life must journey on for 
 
 ever, 
 
 Eternity no end, so Life can never die 
 Till He to whom the suns are atoms whirling by 
 
74 A QUESTION AND A HOPE. 
 
 Has called the Universe to Him to hear its doom ; 
 And so in hopeful doubt we struggle through the 
 
 gloom, 
 For we dream that God is Good, and will forget 
 
 us never. 
 
THE GLACIER, 
 
 Adown the rugged steeps of Time 
 
 The Glacier of the years grinds on ; 
 
 Through the half-spectral, dreamy clime 
 
 Of Memorie, where woe-begone 
 
 Faces of old time flit and glimmer 
 
 In the uncertain, tremulous light, 
 
 And solemn shadows through the night 
 
 Mark how the lights of Fame grow dimmer. 
 
 Hard by, upon a lofty height, 
 
 The great White Steeps of World Renown, 
 
 A noble company looks down 
 
 Serenely through the sullen night 
 
 On the white, helpless river of death. 
 
THE GLACIER. 
 
 Men drawing in ethereal breath, 
 
 The noblest heroes of the earth : 
 
 Theirs is no heritage of birth ; 
 
 By ceaseless toil of heart and hand, 
 
 One aim for ever in their view, 
 
 Cheerfully toiling night and day, 
 
 Manfully facing worldly scorn, 
 
 Higher and higher they made their way, 
 
 Step after step they nearer drew, 
 
 And won at last the hope forlorn, 
 
 The glorious heights where now they stand, 
 
 And there they reign for evermore. 
 
 A ghastly dream, a ghastly sight, 
 
 Is that on which the Immortals look ; 
 
 A river of ice that blanched with fright 
 
 When after morning came the night, 
 
 And Death the river overtook. 
 
 Through deadly solitudes eterue 
 
 It crashes on with tumult stern, 
 
THE GLACIER. 
 
 Complaining, straining all the way, 
 
 Alone, alone, with hitter moan. 
 
 No footsteps wake the mountain peaks, 
 
 Xo wanderer that dark mystery seeks, 
 
 Xo voices break the silence there, 
 
 Xo whisper trembles through the air. 
 
 And murmurs that the Sun will come, 
 
 And smite the darkness wearisome. 
 
 It makes its moan alone, alone, 
 
 And grinds its way through that dead land, 
 
 A pallid River of the Dead, 
 
 Hid in a dark recess of space ; 
 
 And ever to that immortal band 
 
 Turns up a white, beseeching face, 
 
 As awful in its hopeless dread 
 
 As murdered faces turned to stone. 
 
 The heights are black with desperate men, 
 
 Men struggling upwards to the day, 
 
 And welcome rings fiom the heroes when 
 
78 THE GLACIER. 
 
 One to the siimmit makes bis way. 
 
 But oft some climber who has gained 
 
 A footing half-way up the height, 
 
 Looks up at those who have attained 
 
 The summit of eternal light ; 
 
 And, dazzled l>y the glorious sight, 
 
 Stands there a space 
 
 With proud, white face, 
 
 Then reels, and vanishes in the night. 
 
 They watch it as to the sea it grinds : 
 
 Far away below them dimly winds 
 
 The Valley of Half-remembered Things, 
 
 Where every crag projecting brings 
 
 Some memories faint of queens and kintrs, 
 
 And nobles that in churchyards lie ; 
 
 Of men who lived in days gone by, 
 
 Of songs that no one ever sings, 
 
 Of poets dead and harpstrings broken, 
 
 And words forgotten as soon as spoken, 
 
THE GLACIER. 79 
 
 Of how life is a mystery 
 
 Of laughing and crying, 
 
 Of speaking, replying, 
 
 That grinds for ever towards the Sea. 
 
 From heights of Immortality 
 That deathless band looks down to see 
 How, down the rugged steeps of Time, 
 Through the strange land of Memorie, 
 The Glacier of the Fears grinds on, 
 Haunted by shadows of things agone ; 
 Falling with faint and sobbing chime 
 Into Oblivion's boundless Sea. 
 
LOVE. 
 
 Life shorn of Love is heaven devoid of God, 
 A moon's dark side which never sees the sun ; 
 A god's deserted, destitute abode, 
 Where ruin broods, and light or warmth is none. 
 Love gives to life its sweetness and its strength, 
 And almost visibly lives and moves in all ; 
 And, Avheu the looming shadows fall at length, 
 Discerns .the light by which the shadows fall. 
 
 Though wrong and misery in the world are rife, 
 Love's pure and hallowing influence ever gives 
 Strong, patient faith and lofty hopes to life ; 
 No soul that truly loves but truly lives ; 
 They who have filled the world with sin and shame 
 Have tamed Love from their doors and cursed her 
 name, 
 
A SUMMER DAY. 
 
 The country road?; are thick with dust, 
 
 On white, hot ground the fierce sun beats, 
 
 And, whirling on in fitful gust, 
 
 A dry hot wind the traveller greets. 
 
 The birds with very heat are still ; 
 
 Though now and then a lonely voice 
 Pipes out in accents feebly shrill, 
 
 But cannot, though it would, rejoice. 
 
 The grass is parched, the daisies droop 
 In drowsy pain their lowly heads ; 
 
 The buttercups and poppies stoop 
 
 As through their veins the fever spreads. 
 
82 A SUMMER DAT. 
 
 Oh, for a shower of summer rain 
 To cool the earth's excessive thirst : 
 
 To quicken again the drooping grain, 
 That shuns the sky as though accursed. 
 
 Under a giant tree I lie 
 
 With sleepless thoughts of sombre hue ; 
 Quietly watching the sultry sky, 
 
 Where no cool cloud obscures the blue. 
 
 My heart, my heart is thick with dust. 
 Oh, that a sweet, refreshing shower 
 
 Of peace, to cool its hot distrust, 
 Would visit it for but an hour ; 
 
 And purify its heavy air, 
 
 So dark with disbelief in good ; 
 
 And calm its doubts and dull despair. 
 And self-consuming solitude. 
 
A SUMMER DAT. 83 
 
 Renewed and strengthened, I might then 
 
 Awake to feel a newer day 
 Upon me ; and take up again 
 
 The duties frowardly cast away. 
 
 For only he with active mind, 
 
 At peace with nature and with man, 
 
 Fulfils the part to him assigned 
 In working out the hidden plan. 
 
 Only where faith and hope and love 
 
 Abide, the living life is found ; 
 For while in strong, clear flight they move, 
 
 Despair broods darkly on the ground. 
 
UNDER A RAILWAY BRIDGE. 
 
 Below a massive railway bridge I stood 
 For shelter from a sudden fall of rain, 
 When I heard the piercing whistle of a train 
 Approaching, flying through the falling flood ; 
 And in a moment, chilling all my blood 
 With trembling fear no reason could explain, 
 It rumbled overhead, then passed again ; 
 Groaning with its great load of ill and good. 
 
 I turned and looked upon it as it passed, 
 And pressed against a window pane I saw 
 A lovely face that seemed to have no flaw, 
 Till suddenly on me she turned her eyes ; 
 And then I thought, in horrible surprise, 
 That Sin had found embodiment at last. 
 
A LETTER. 
 
 Dear sister student in the class 
 
 Where we, who worked all day, 
 Gathered on winter nights to p;i>.s 
 
 A studious hour away ; 
 Forgive it, if you ever see 
 
 This tribute in your praise : 
 For you were very dear to me 
 
 In those far distant days. 
 
 A solitary soul was I, 
 
 And used to sit alone ; 
 Of new companions ever shy, 
 
 Yet longing to be known. 
 
86 A LETTER. 
 
 They seemed to hold aloof from me, 
 And many a careless sneer 
 
 In look and word I used to see, 
 And, half in anger, hear. 
 
 But, sometimes, as I copied down 
 
 The notes the teaeher read ; 
 Deaf to the titters as young Brown 
 
 Behind me sketched my head ; 
 I looked across the room, to find 
 
 Your eyes regarding me 
 With one expression, strangely kind, 
 
 That I was glad to see. 
 
 I grew to watch and wait to meet 
 Those furtive looks from you ; 
 
 Their quiet sympathy was sweet, 
 But, oh, they seemed so few ! 
 
 1 wondered whom you were, and why 
 Your glances touched me so ; 
 
A LETTEK. 87 
 
 And trembled as? you passed me by, 
 When the students rose to go. 
 
 When class began 1 used to look 
 
 If you were in your place ; 
 And oft, in poring on my book, 
 
 I only saw your face. 
 I saw it where the teacher chalked 
 
 The orbits of the stars, 
 And hardly heard him when he talked 
 
 Of Jupiter and Mars. 
 
 I often thought you wished to speak, 
 
 But never could be sure ; 
 / would not speak, for week by week 
 
 Your looks seemed growing fewer. 
 But one night as I came in class 
 
 I found you there alone ; 
 And as it chanced, I had to pass 
 
 Your desk to reach my own. 
 
88 A LETTER. 
 
 You looked towards me as I came, 
 
 With the old friendly smile ; 
 And, careless of the formal dame 
 
 With her suspicious vile, 
 You said, as I was passing by, 
 
 Some words I did not hear, 
 And then, ere I could make reply, 
 
 Came noisy voices near. 
 
 And never since that sweet sad night 
 
 Have we two met alone, 
 Though oft your glances kind and bright 
 
 Across the room have shone. 
 Though long before the class began 
 
 I loitered round the door, 
 In vain I used to plot and plan 
 
 To speak with you once more. 
 
 We met not, spoke not, after then, 
 And I was very sad ; 
 
A LETTER. 
 
 I longed to hear your words again, 
 
 I fancied that they had 
 The promise of a wondrous bliss 
 
 That I might yet have known ; 
 But fate denied me even this, . 
 
 And I am still alone. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The class is broken up ; the stern 
 
 Examination past ; 
 And in the crush of life we learn 
 
 That learning palls at last. 
 You go your way and I go mine, 
 
 And they are far apart ; 
 But your dear, gentle face will shine 
 
 For ever in my heart. 
 
 And so 1 thank you, lady sweet, 
 
 And bless you as I go ; 
 And though we nevermore may meet, 
 
 About my life will glow 
 
A LETTER. 
 
 The gentle sunshine of your heart, 
 
 Ineffably serene ; 
 Dulled only by the weary *mprt 
 
 Of a dream that might have been. 
 
IX FETTERS AND DARKLESS. 
 
 We count with hitter heart* life's griefs and pains, 
 The trials and the crosses that we bear ; 
 And in the cruel agony of despair 
 We cry out : " We are weary of our chains ; 
 Our lives are stale and useless ; what remains 
 Of joy or hope for us, foredoomed to wear 
 Upon our hearts the canker-brand of Care, 
 And win with many losses dubious gains ? " 
 
 Why do we always view the darkest side ? 
 Were it not best to labour on, and dream 
 That as the orb of life revolves the gleam 
 Of joy will yet on our dark ways abide ; 
 Sweeter to us, who in the fiery stream 
 Of misery long were tried, yet purified ? 
 
JACK AND JILL. 
 
 Love bound the two with a golden chain, 
 Closer and closer their hearts were linking ; 
 Each of the other was always thinking, 
 But why they did it could not explain. 
 And he was bashful, and she was shy, 
 He never could say what he wished to say ; 
 " Shall J be the one to lead the way ? " 
 She tossed her pretty head, " No, not J ! " 
 
 The old folk laughed, and looked far back 
 To the time when they in the net were taken ; 
 How they with the same sweet fears were shaken, 
 And trembled ever upon the rack 
 
JACK AND JILL. 93 
 
 When courting together they used to go, 
 Keeping company many a while ; 
 And they often said with a cheerful smile, 
 " Just as we used to be, you know." 
 
 " Leave them alone," they said, " they're young ; 
 
 They'll come together at last, as we did ; 
 
 Only a little word is needed 
 
 Now, and it trembles on his tongue. 
 
 And Love will always have his will, 
 
 Though oft for a bashful pair he waits ; 
 
 And he never will find two better mates 
 
 For each other than Jack and winsome Jill." 
 
 These lovers happened to go one morn 
 Through neighbouring fields for a quiet ramble ; 
 She took his arm, and he took the bramble 
 Side of the way, and his coat was torn. 
 She carried her needle, and as she bent 
 TO stitch it he said, in a voice deprest, 
 
91 JACK AND JILL. 
 
 A deeper rent was under his breast ; 
 
 Do you think she didn't know what he meant ? 
 
 At last to a stile these lovers came ; 
 
 They didn't go over, but sat together, 
 
 And Jack began to wonder whether 
 
 He had not better give love a name. 
 
 "Jill," said Jack; "Well, Jack?" said Jill; 
 
 "I've just been thinking" and then he blushed, 
 
 And she blushed, too, and the robins hushed 
 
 To hear these lovers, but both were still. 
 
 " Is there anything strange in that ? " she said, 
 "I know that I am always thinking" 
 " Of me? said Jack, but. her eyes were blinking, 
 Dazed in the sun, and she hung her head. 
 And then, oh, what do yon think he did ? 
 He kissed her, ere she could say him nay ! 
 She cried, but he kissed her tears away, 
 Till her blushing face on his breast she hid. 
 
JACK AND JILL. 95 
 
 And they said to each other, " Love is best," 
 "And so it is," the birds were singing j 
 "Love is the best," the bells seemed ringing, 
 And all the world their secret guessed. 
 And so, when clasped to each other they 
 Went home with faces glowing red, 
 The old folk only laughed, and said : 
 " That rascal Love will have his wav ! " 
 
MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 
 
 Though Death and Doom are awful, there can be 
 No words which torture more our restless days, 
 Than these, which murmur of divided ways, 
 And lives as lonely as the brooding sea ; 
 Of broken hearts ; souls struggling to be free 
 From hell ; of daydreams passing from our gaze ; 
 Of passionate love, that came too late to raise 
 Dead love, and moaned in hopeless misery. 
 
 Oh, wild Existence, hungering sore to find 
 The destiny of this old, death-ridden ball, 
 Beware ; lest Time, in answer to your call, 
 Should whisper that the doom of man, behind 
 Futurity hidden by the Master Mind, 
 j s a Might-have-been's colossal funeral !