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 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 / 
 
 -<..- -;>
 
 'f
 
 Voices after Sunset 
 
 <tANT> 0TH6% TOS^AIS. 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD HENRY BLAKENEY. 
 
 fVitb Illuitrations by 
 
 H. MAURICE PAGE. 
 
 Cantantcs licet usque — minus via lacdit — camus. 
 
 Virgil, Eclogues.
 
 PKINTEU FuK THt eUBSCKIBER:- 
 
 i-.v 
 
 IJ.NWIN BROIIILKS, 
 
 t.OXUON ASU WOKING.
 
 ' // 
 
 ^/^/ 
 
 i/ 
 
 Prefatory Note. 
 
 Many of the poems which appear in this book have been. 
 
 published before, either in certain early collections of verse 
 
 ranging from 1889 to 1892, or in the pages of magazines. 
 
 These reprinted pieces have been carefully revised for the present 
 
 collection, and in one or two instances enlarged. 
 
 The arrangement of tlie poems is, in the main, chronological ; 
 hence those pieces which are latest in date are placed last in 
 the book. 
 
 My best thanks are due to Mr. H. M. Page, of Manwood 
 Court, Sandwich, for the beautiful drawings with which, at my 
 request, he has adorned this volume. There is smething 
 peculiarly appropriate that he, of all men, should have given 
 these poems of mine that rare touch of distinction which they 
 would otherwise have lacked indeed ; for is it not in and through 
 the special circumstances of our co-operation that tiie Spirit 
 of the Past, gazing wistfully down from the grey walls of the 
 old Grammar School, looks in upon the Present and wishes it 
 God-speed in the new life dawning in a new place ? 
 
 E. H. B. 
 Sir Roger Manwood' s Grammar School, 
 Sandwich, 
 
 November 23, 1897. 
 
 8617D3
 
 To7 —eju (j)i\oi.i(xdiui' i:m -{fit rUf uXtjdelr (l>ij<n'ii(T£ig ianovcaKori 
 
 (.at ruvTU i^taXiiTTd rwi' cbruu yiyvf-uatrfiiiu) (jiftut'e'iy /iei' aOuiara 
 
 tcal dua, iuTTip aXifJdur ilnnTTiirui, ~daa uyuyKT) nvv, kaO v(tov 
 
 6 av fiiTuaj^tiy aiOpio—iyt) (l>vmr udayafrUuj eyci\(.-ui, toutov fit]Cey 
 
 l-iipoc cnroXfiTTiiy, are te cul dtpa-tuoira ru Otloy t^orm re avrvy 
 
 tu KEK()(Tni}i-(tyoy Tuy Ca(f.wya t,vyoiKoy er ovrw ctrKlxpoyrioc tvcaif.ioya 
 
 fiyai. 
 
 Plato, 'Timaeus, 
 
 <^^ 
 
 Manda fuor la vampa 
 Del tuo disio, mi dissc, si, ch' clla csca 
 Scgnata bene dell' interna stampa ; 
 Non pcrche nostra conosccnza crcsca 
 Per tuo parlarc, ma pcrche t' ausi 
 A dir la scte, si chc I'liom ti mcsca. 
 
 Dante, "Paradiso, 
 
 I have felt 
 A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
 Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
 Of something far more deeply interfused. 
 Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
 Aiul the round ocean, and the living air. 
 And the blue sky, and in the mind of man ; 
 A motion and a spirit, that impels 
 All thinking things all objects of all thought. 
 And rolls through all things. 
 
 Wordsworth.
 
 Contents, 
 
 'J 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PROLOGUE — Voices before Sunrise .... g 
 
 Juvenilia : — 
 
 Day Dreams I7 
 
 Watchword 20 
 
 An Autumn Musing 21 
 
 A Mirage 22 
 
 To Spring 24 
 
 Restlessness and Rest 26 
 
 Farewell 28 
 
 The Secret, and Other Poe 
 
 MS :- 
 
 The Secret 3-7 
 
 Agnosticism -78 
 
 Storm and Wreck 40 
 
 On the Death of a Child 42 
 
 To a Baby Boy 4.4 
 
 Impromptu 47 
 
 On Hearing Chopin's Third Nocturne ... 48 
 
 Under the Crags of the Finsteraarhorn .... 49 
 
 The Poet ^o
 
 f) (().\/A\y's. 
 
 The Secret, and Other Vov.us- contimud. vM-.r 
 
 A Winter's Walk 5^ 
 
 A Valentine 53 
 
 In the Bernese Oberland 54 
 
 In the Lotschenthal 57 
 
 InMemoriam— H. P. T 59 
 
 On a May Morning 6o 
 
 The Wanderer "2 
 
 In the Twilight ^5 
 
 The Light from the (}olden Isles 6; 
 
 The Mother and the Child 69 
 
 In Memoriam — R. Elwyn 71 
 
 A Winter Moonlight 73 
 
 Sunset on the Richborough Road 74 
 
 Autumn Music 7^ 
 
 The Passing of Summer 78 
 
 EPILOGUE — Voices after Sunsei 80
 
 To A, E. S. B. 
 
 WITH THE POEMS WHICH FOLLOW. 
 
 Y wife, my Amy, whose sweet life is linked 
 With mine by royal right of love and trust, 
 Whose gentle years, moving with guileless 
 feet. 
 Have brought a blessing in their wake to all 
 That, knowing, cherish you — nay, whose dear name 
 Is nought but Love's own golden synonym ; 
 Who, isled amid a round of daily toils. 
 Home cares, and fair solicitudes, have watched, 
 With no unheeding interest, the growth 
 — Month after month, year after gradual year — 
 Of this brief book of song : to you, at length 
 My task complete, I consecrate whate'er 
 Of pure or right therein shall meet your eye 
 Or touch your heart, binding upon my brow 
 The tender tribute of your meed of praise. 
 
 October 1 8, 1897.
 
 -^
 
 T^rologue, 
 
 Voices Before Sunrise* 
 
 HOLIEST Love, to whom our highest 
 praise 
 
 Is but a broken utterance of earth 
 That fliin would strive, in accents crude and weak, 
 To attune its inmost soul of harmony 
 To that great paean that the Angels sing 
 In endless hallekijahs round the Throne, — 
 To thee, supreme and perfect voice of God, 
 I lift my heart and consecrate my song. 
 
 Rapt in a vision thro' the unfathomed void 
 Where never light broke soft on stormless seas.
 
 lo rROLOGUE. 
 
 Mv spirit took her flight and sped away 
 
 O'er Liiikiiovvn gulls ; and, wandering many a league 
 
 Thro' immemorial regions, found at length 
 
 A home beyond the threshold of the world 
 
 Far out, and knew her long-sought resting-place. 
 
 Awhile my soul had peace ; I seemed to drink 
 
 In purest ecstacy the bliss of dreams, 
 
 Nor longed for aught beyond. Then, slow at first 
 
 But with insistence that might brook no check, 
 
 My spirit yearned within itself to find 
 
 Some bliss completer yet, some fuller joy 
 
 That waked no lingering passion for past things, 
 
 Nor any after-questionings, faiiit and dim 
 
 Yet touched with some vague sorrow at the core, 
 
 Nor any thought save only " Life is joy." 
 
 There, as my restless spirit chafed, and chid 
 
 Its fond desire in vain, methought I saw 
 
 A sudden-rising glory, sphered in light 
 
 And white with wonder. Fronting me, it stood : 
 
 Spellbound I held my breath as one that sleep 
 
 Has lapt in sweet oblivion ; I knew 
 
 By swiftest intuition that this shape.
 
 PROLOGUE. II 
 
 So passing fair, on errand high had come 
 
 To bring me sacred tidings of the truth 
 
 From some bright isle of God beyond the stars. 
 
 " O stranger soul," he spake — and how his words, 
 
 Like the calm cadence of a golden bell, 
 
 Woke music in mv tired spirit ! — " lo, 
 
 The pent imperious secret of thy lite 
 
 Which long has robbed thy being of its rest, 
 
 Thv strong desire to ' know,' to probe the heart 
 
 Of all the silent splendours of the world 
 
 And all the mystic glories that gleam out 
 
 So fitfully across man's little life, 
 
 God deigns to grant : have then thy will ! 'tis thine 
 
 To see the hidden soul of things." With that, 
 
 A sharp, quick spasm did rend my heart in twain ; 
 
 I felt some influence, unguessed before, 
 
 Pass thro' my secret being ; and straightway 
 
 My spirit knew its self, both all it was 
 
 And is and shall be ; and the close-barred gate 
 
 Of knowledge fell as, in long ages gone, 
 
 The wall of Jericho fell at the blast
 
 13 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Of dread Jehovah's trumpet. Then a thrill, 
 
 Cold, incommunicable, awful, strange, 
 
 Laid hands upon me : and aloud I shrieked. 
 
 A smile passed over the Immortal's face : 
 
 " Thy wish is granted : all thou hast required 
 
 Is thine : why, then, that look of terror, wan 
 
 And deathlike, on thy face ? Speak, ere I pass." 
 
 But I, in accents pained and slow, replied : 
 '' Thou servant of the living God, who cam'st 
 To give and not refuse the boon I craved, — 
 Take back, take back thy gift! I feel — I know- 
 By that full knowledge that within me dwells, 
 That I have sought in vain. One thing I lack 
 Whereof the presence, in the heart of him 
 That guards his treasure, is a fount of light, 
 A well-spring of contentment and sweet bliss. 
 Of holier joys than ever knowledge won, — 
 And that sole thing is Love. I see it now. 
 In this full, overpowering, sudden beam 
 Shed o'er mine aching heart. Blind that I was ! 
 Who passed unheeding by, that better part.
 
 PROLOGUE. 13 
 
 Nor realised this truth summed up in brief — 
 ' To love ' is ever greater than ' to know.' " 
 
 Whereat there stole into my fevered thought 
 A quickening sense of joy, a settled peace 
 Unfelt till then ; no anguish longer held 
 Mv soul in icv fetters : Love was Lord, 
 I knew — Love, strong as death and deep as life, 
 No stream of transient passion, but a tide 
 Whose flood moves on rejoicing thro' the years 
 Till, swept triumphant o'er the bar of Time, 
 It sleeps in God's illimitable sea. 
 
 October 5, 1894.
 
 5.
 
 JUUEU^ILI'zA* 
 
 <t(\Ln yuii uxTTE r6)]fir{ TftipiftyjLTai ayAaoc »;/5»;' 
 twv 'iTtTTMy iipin) yiyt'tTut. (iiKvrtftif. 
 
 Theognis. 
 
 * Wrillen lor the mosl pail iluiin;; lln- siimiiici m i)i.iy.
 
 Day Dreams, 
 
 I. 
 
 I JGHT upon lawns and leafy dells 
 And meadows flashing forth in flowers, 
 And peacehil light on yonder towers, 
 And light upon the glimmering fells. 
 
 Sweet peace beside the brimming streams 
 And torrents foaming down the glade ; 
 And, as the sun's fierce glories fade. 
 
 A deeper hush like evening dreams. 
 
 Lo, with the darkness, kindly sleep 
 
 Returns ; the lingering light has past ; 
 Mysterious Night glides wavering, fast 
 
 And silent, o'er the muflled deep. 
 
 n ■
 
 IS 
 
 D.IV DREAMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oft-times a sorrow dimly telt, 
 
 And vague as half-forgotten fears, 
 
 Will stir the thoughts that quicken tears : 
 
 We guess not why. Perchance indwelt 
 
 Remembrance of some spot we knew, 
 Of joys for ever fled away, 
 When Love held undisputed sway, 
 
 And, striking deep, yet deeper grew. 
 
 Then, as the days swim back to sight 
 A silent sigh wells from the soul ; 
 How swift the dark years, as they roll, 
 
 Have power to plunge our prime in night ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Like some sweet half-remembered psalm, 
 Long-loved, which steals across the mind 
 As music in a choral wind, 
 
 There falls on me a chastened calm
 
 DAY DREAMS. 19 
 
 That hushes wakeful memories, sad 
 From musing on a vanished past, 
 And love's brief bliss — too fair to last, — 
 
 And once again my heart is glad ; 
 
 Thrilled thro' with sense of full belief 
 
 That earth's lost joys shall live once more, 
 Recovered on some distant shore, 
 
 For contrast set in deep relief.
 
 JVatchword, 
 
 OURN not the vanished hour ; 'tis thine 
 no more ; 
 But concentrate thy energies, thy time, 
 Thy talents, opportunities, and wealth, 
 Upon the golden present. Thai is thine, 
 And lying in thy grasp. Be wise to make 
 The most of every moment as it speeds. 
 Heed not the future — known to God alone 
 Who shapeth all things to His sovereign will. 
 Each minute's precious, and to thee is given 
 For loss or gain ; and every flying hour — 
 Never to be recalled — is bringing thee 
 One sure step nearer heaven or nearer hell.
 
 Li^:-. 
 
 % 

 
 An Autumn Mus/ncr, 
 
 <?-^^ 
 
 H, sweet remembrance of long-buried 
 
 years ! 
 How swifrly Memory, at this pensive hour, 
 Unbars the portal of the shuttered past, 
 When my dear love was here ! 
 
 For oft, upon some calm, still summer eve, 
 When twilight shadows gradually gained, 
 Steeping all Nature in their mystic shroud, 
 We roamed the woods togethcM*. 
 
 Dear was her voice, more dear, more sweet to me 
 Than any sound that mortal ears might hear ; 
 And ah ! her face was lovely, fresh, and pure, 
 But now — no longer seen ! 
 
 For ere the winter had made way for spring. 
 And while the leaves were breaking from each 
 
 bud 
 And life pulsated thro' the awakening land, 
 My love had passed away.
 
 A Mirage. 
 
 o 
 
 Crcdiila rfs amor est. — Ovid, Met. vii. S26. 
 
 LL> the world looked fair, love, when in 
 summer days, love, 
 Slow we took our way beside the 
 solitary sea ; 
 Everything so calmful. no intruding comer 
 
 There, to mar the dreams that floated, love, to 
 you and me. 
 
 When was time so bright, love? O the recollections — 
 How they crowd my brain to-night that longs 
 for rest again ! 
 Deeplv sobs the ocean, dark with storm and rain, 
 love, 
 While tempests hoarsely echo, and the earth 
 breathes low in pain.
 
 A MIRAGE. 25 
 
 So, 'twas all a fancy ? just a passing thought, love ? 
 
 All the palaces we reared were phantoms, nothing 
 
 more ? 
 Airy homes so bright, love, where, to reign my 
 
 queen, love. 
 
 You a heart's devotion might possess — soul's 
 
 treasure-store. 
 
 " Ah ! but all is over ! " clang the words so harsh, 
 love \ 
 Whose the doing — yours or mine ? Between two 
 hearts a wall 
 (Sadly be it said, love) have your hands upraised, 
 love ; 
 While I — live on the same, and yet .... the 
 dream's fled ; that is all. 
 
 ^MM'
 
 lo spring: 
 
 An Experiment in Versification. 
 
 l^'OR a glimpse of the Spring, with its 
 wonder and smile, and its blossom, ■i.W'^ 
 
 bloom ! 
 O for a breath of the salt sea wave to scatter the 
 
 night and the shadowin(£ (rjoom I 
 To gaze for one hour on the set of the sun, 'mid 
 
 crimson and purple and gold, 
 And the lurid rack of the western clouds, their 
 
 colour, their might, and their glories untold ! 
 
 Oh to hear once more the long-drawn murmur of 
 hnes of surf rolling up on the beach, 
 
 Their green crests threatening aloft, ere they whiten 
 in foam, tumbled each over each ; 
 
 To feel the pulse of Atlantic gales majestic in move- 
 ment and onslaught and rout, 
 
 As their royal procession sweeps over the land, with 
 sj^lendour and joy encircled about. 
 
 34
 
 TO SPRING. 35 
 
 Right glad is a life by the ocean wave, haunted ever 
 by freedom and passion's unrest, 
 
 And the strong full music by night of the winds, 
 and the blast roaring out of the West ; 
 
 And sweet is the tremulous moonlight that silvers 
 the deep with a mantle of light and of love. 
 
 With the planet-spheres and the stars that glide in 
 noiseless circle and order above. 

 
 Restlessness and Rest. 
 
 EASELESS movement, ebb and flow 
 O'er Time's restless sea ; 
 Mortals born to come and go ; 
 Life an -hour for you and me, — 
 Life, with all its splendid things, 
 Dreams of good and noble deeds ; 
 Light and love, divine and free ; 
 All the glory that life brings. 
 Yet, within the distance, know 
 Death awaits both you and me : 
 God has ordered so. 
 
 Seems this sad in contemplation ? 
 
 Feel you thus opprest 
 By that strange and dread relation — 
 Life, with death its consummation ? 
 
 Lone; you so for rest ? 
 
 a6
 
 /?£SrLESSA'£SS AND R£S7\ 27 
 
 Rest is sweet, but life means labour 
 For that very rest we love ; 
 And more precious wfll the rest be, 
 And more perfect will our zest be 
 In a crown for work well finished^ 
 Somewhere far above.
 
 Farewell. 
 
 S it farewell ? Yet not for ever, love ! " 
 He cried, his whole soul trembling on 
 his lips ; 
 
 " The sun sinks down, is hid from human gaze, 
 But rises, bringing with it the new day : 
 So must we part, yet only for a while, 
 
 O must it be? Love, but a time will come 
 
 — Who knows how soon?^ — when we shall meet again ; 
 
 The noon's retreating glories shall uprise 
 
 With healing in their blaze of orient strength, 
 
 To comfort us o'erwearied of the dark. 
 
 Aye, rise again ! So farewell — for a time. 
 And as the music of yon glittering stream 
 Re-echoes softly, sweetly, thro' each cleft 
 Of these vast hills that compass us about. 
 So may my words re-echo thro' thy heart. 
 
 3ii
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 O in the speaking silences of night, 
 Haply \i doubt or sorrowful dismay 
 Steal o'er thee, may love's tones reverberate 
 Clear in the secret chambers of thy soul, 
 And of this heart's devotion whisper still. 
 
 29
 
 ^
 
 THE SECTiET, 
 
 Q^U^T) OTHETi 'rOE'zMS. 
 
 erepot; ci eripov irofor ro re TrciXai to re ivv' 
 ovCe yap pd arlv appijrwv sTrewv 7rv\ac 
 e^evpilv' 
 
 Bacchylides. 
 
 Apri alia verita che vicne il petto. 
 
 Dante, Turgatorio.
 
 We touch flic sIkuIow j lo, it standi 
 
 As it to mock our hopes and tears j 
 But still we truvt, beyoiui the years, 
 
 To rest at lensith our wearied hands 
 
 Upon the sid)stanie \\hi< h li^d cast 
 Each littui shadow long ago; 
 And wc shall lift our eyes, an<l knuw 
 
 The Truth attaincil, the sorrow past.
 
 The Secret. 
 
 Hx\.T is the secret of life, we wonder, 
 Its mystery, strange to comprehend ? 
 Where its beginning, and what its end: 
 
 Does good predominate over ill, 
 
 Or ill crush out the striving good ? 
 These are the problems whereon we brood. 
 
 Life is a tangled web, we know, 
 
 Of fact and fallacy, right and wrong, 
 Of tears and smiles, of sob and song. 
 
 In youth the world looms large enough 
 For the budding soul to expatiate. 
 Its each road merging at Heaven's gate. 
 
 But, as the days of earliest prime 
 
 Grow lessening shadows, ahead — we dream — 
 Thro' the futures mist new passions gleam. 
 
 3$
 
 34 THE SECRET. 
 
 There come, with regret for a faded Past, 
 Convictions, unquenched by flood or fire, 
 Bidding us struggle and still aspire ; 
 
 Not yield to disappointment's power 
 
 That fain would blast our energies' scope, 
 Rendering fruitless the soil of Hope. 
 
 For Hope's glad soil produces growth 
 Incontrovertibly sure to brace 
 The mental faculties thro' life's race : 
 
 Life's race — for the prize of Wisdom pure. 
 And Knowledge refined from dregs of earth ; 
 And Love, that looks for a second birth 
 
 In far-off regions where God is proved 
 Source and end of immortal Truth, 
 And Love's fire absolute strength, in sooth ; 
 
 Sweet communion of soul with soul — 
 That hidden glory which links afresh 
 The sometime oneness 'twixt God and flesh.
 
 THE SECRET. 35 
 
 Years flit ; hearts once aglow with faith, 
 Or ardent cravings for joy and gain, 
 Grow dull 'neath age's increasing strain. 
 
 We have reached, after painful toil, a height 
 When we survey the path late trod : 
 Was it all a dream that our goal was — God ? 
 
 Comes a sorrow to cross our life, 
 
 Subtle of touch ; some mute keen smart 
 To draw the blood from an aching heart ; 
 
 Some sacrifice for a nobler end 
 
 Than this world knows ; 'tis theyi, 'mid stress 
 Of a thousand conflicts, more or less, 
 
 That suddenly — as~when Moses struck 
 The rock in a thirsty wilderness — 
 Flow the waters that heal and bless. 
 
 I trow that in other worlds, indeed, 
 
 Life riddling and tangled now (it seems) 
 A heaped confusion of strifes and dreams,
 
 36 THE SECRET. 
 
 When seen outstretched before our eyes — 
 Its panorama laid bare, at last — 
 Shall appear no hazard of Chance, but cast 
 
 A sphere, compacted by God's own hand. 
 With the outside roughnesses left, uncouth, 
 For earth's probation to wear them smooth. 
 
 To work, and combat, and struggle below, 
 To agonise for the gains stored there 
 In mansions not made with hands, be our care ! 
 
 Attainment now would but falsify 
 
 Life's law reported through space and time : 
 Perfection be won in some better clime, 
 
 Not here ! This lesson we need — that man. 
 Most oft thro' failure here and strife 
 Rough hews his path to the Gates of Life. 
 
 Certainly Death shall close not all ; 
 Else what were Life but a story told, 
 A moment's radiance — quenched and cold ?
 
 THE SECRET. 37 
 
 A fragrtnent flashed from a starry tide 
 That swiftly, fallen across the night, 
 Fades in a dying splendour of light ? 
 
 Death sets the coping-stone to life, 
 
 And suffers the soul, from sense set free, 
 To wander at will through Eternity, 
 
 Learning ever, at Wisdom's fount, 
 
 Yet deeper meaning in things create — 
 Or high or low, or small or great ; 
 
 Love bringing — subservient still to Law — 
 To ripe fulfilment that glorious plan, 
 Full reconcilement of God and man. 
 
 Here is our time of trial ; 'tis Death 
 
 Must solve the secret — Earth's " Now," 1 ken. 
 Made plain in the light of God's grand "Then."
 
 A^nosticis)N. 
 
 o 
 
 I\N tell us God exists not; that He stands 
 The dim projection of our hopes and fears 
 Upon the future ; never realised, 
 But h)r all time the vague embodiment 
 Of human yearning and of human thought : 
 We know^ not aught save Matter. 
 
 Blind, O blind ! 
 When Reason, spite her thousand arguments, 
 Is powerless to prove God's life to us, 
 We recognise and feel His presence here — 
 Deep in the heart, and deeper in the soul, 
 And in the consciousness we have of Him. 
 Nay, show that nought exists, or mind of man 
 Or things to sense perceptive ; say that all 
 Is false and evanescent as a dream ; 
 
 38
 
 A GNOSTICISM. 39 
 
 But not that God exists not. He is here 
 When we surmise His Being least ; He moves 
 Mysterious in His loveliness and power ; 
 Stirs all that's noblest, purest, best within. 
 Filling the soul with light and life diffused 
 From His grand Self. 
 
 We care not what they say ! 
 Men have their little day, but God endures — 
 'Mid wrecks of Time the One Reality, 
 With everlasting arms stretched out to draw 
 Earth's sons, like tired children, home to Him.
 
 Storm and IFrec/^. 
 
 TOl-vMLESS th:u morning broke; the 
 Sun, unclouded, 
 
 Rose up, and smote the heart of Night 
 in twain ; 
 While, from the watch-towers of the Dawn's voung 
 splendour, 
 The light in golden ripples flecked the main. 
 
 Still as the dav wore on, the calm grew deeper; 
 
 The folded mist scarce changed its slumbering 
 form, 
 Ere, from the northward, gloomed an arch of 
 tempest 
 Vaulted with cloud and moving leagues of storm. 
 
 40
 
 STORM AAD WRECK. 41 
 
 The darkness grew apace ; and, mantling heaven. 
 In one drear, deathlike pall, full o'er the sea 
 
 It fell ; furiously strove the winds ; the lightnings 
 Shot their far fires ; the rains drove fierce and free. 
 
 There, 'mid the strife of elements, while thunder 
 Rolled deep-tongued echoes through the hollow 
 night, 
 
 A vessel toiled, despite the rack and furv : 
 
 God help her crew, and quell the wild affright ! 
 
 All but in reach of the desired haven, 
 
 Almost in hail of their dear native strand, 
 
 Foundered that good ship ; down beneath the billows 
 She plunged, with her six hundred, close to land. 
 
 Far, far below, tho' tempests rave above them, 
 
 Those brave souls lie till God's great Advent 
 dawn ; 
 
 Among the rocks and tangled seaweed sleeping, 
 Thev rest, unvexed by wind or any storm.
 
 On the Death of a Child, 
 
 Adapted from the Latin of Martial, 
 Spigrams, v. 34, 37, 
 
 -«T'*^Jri.';,te^ 
 
 ORE fair than ever swan was fair, 
 That with her stately oarage moved, 
 The snowv marvel of the mere ; 
 More fair indeed, and sweeter far, 
 Wert thou, beloved Erotion. 
 Was ever shell of Lucrine lake 
 So deftly carved, so flawless-fine ? 
 Or coral of the Red Sea dyed 
 A deeper flush ? Nay, never snow, 
 Nor lily whose young loveliness 
 No hand has soiled, to me did seem 
 In aught to be compared with thee. 
 
 42
 
 ON THE DEA TH OF A CHILD. 43 
 
 Erotion, on whose marble brow 
 My tenderest kisses rained ! O lips 
 That breathed of honey newly stored 
 By Attic bees, and many a rose 
 In Passtum's garden plucked at morn ! 
 Bright hair that I so often loved 
 To fondle ! thy resplendency 
 Ne'er yet was seen in all the waves 
 That Tmolus rolls o'er golden sands. 
 
 Lie light upon her beauty, Earth ! 
 Her foot, I ween, trod light o'er thee.
 
 To a Baby Boy 
 
 M^^^ 
 
 WEET little hov with the golden hiiir 
 Soft and fair, 
 Here and there 
 Suffer the wind thro' a summer air 
 
 Ever so gently to breathe and blow 
 When the sun dips low 
 And one kind star 
 Shines with its lone light, faint and tar. 
 
 Dear little one with the eyes so blue. 
 Earnest and true, 
 That have caught the hue 
 Of the tranquil ocean thro' and thro' ; 
 Angel eyes, where gleams the light 
 Of a dewy heaven, crystal-bright. 
 
 44
 
 TO A BABY BOY. 45 
 
 Dear little love ! 
 Kiss me once and twice and thrice 
 
 With those pretty lips 
 Sweeter than flowers the bold bee sips. 
 
 Say, do you love nie ? tell nie, dear I 
 Nay, but the answer is here, my dear, 
 
 All in those bonny bkie eyes 
 
 Deep as the moving skies, 
 
 Where a wonder of laughter lies, 
 
 And ah ! so trustful and clear. 
 
 Sweet little child, best treasure on earth, 
 
 Angels guarded your birth ; 
 Angels are with you here and now ; 
 Each morn they caress the fair young brow, 
 i\.nd tenderly watch by the tiny bed 
 Where sunbeams kiss the golden head ; 
 While the least wan trace 
 Of tears they chase 
 Ever so far away.
 
 4^^ TO A BABY BOY. 
 
 My baby, my joy, and my innocent pride, 
 The world, they tell us, is cold and wide ; 
 Does it matter so much, whatever betide, 
 
 With you, little one, by my side ? 
 And so may the good God bless you, my 
 darling, to-day, 
 Bless you for ever and aye !
 
 Impromptu, 
 
 [iNGER awhile, sweet light ! 
 Still wave thy floating banners in 
 the west, 
 
 As thro' the air there steals a solemn rest 
 Or ever comes the night. 
 
 Such pause may not be long ; 
 So soon, 'mid quiet depths of darkness, rise 
 Bright stars that tremble like angelic eyes 
 Hung with quick tears, when some diviner song 
 
 Wells thro' the silent skies. 
 
 Thou canst not linger more. 
 Image of all things brief and beauteous ! gleams 
 Of myriad worlds whence broken glory streams 
 
 Toward this earthly shore. 
 
 ♦7
 
 On Hearincy 
 Chopin'' s Thir^I Nocturne, 
 
 jUSICjthat bringest unto souls, which yearn 
 To catch some glimpse of regions 
 worlds awav, 
 A better revelation than the day 
 Upon night's shrouding dark ; from thee avc learn 
 Secret emotions, fits ot strano;est grief, 
 
 That breathe withal a subtle sweet delight, 
 \\'hich never heart may fathom. What relief 
 Thy passing harmonies beget ! O lio;ht 
 Cast, dew-like, o'er our heaviness and ploom I 
 
 Far hid 'mid "depths of Personality," 
 Thy power and presence yield our spirits room 
 Unfathom'd seas of Thought to travel through ; 
 
 Thou mystic star hung from Eternity ! 
 We dare not doubt thou art divine and true.
 
 Under the Crags of the 
 Finsteraarhorn^ 
 
 August 1 8, 1892. 
 
 JAJESTIC in their silence rise the hills, 
 Each summit crown'd with everlasting 
 snows ; 
 
 And from their crags, where glittering ice-fields sleep, 
 The echoing torrent flows. 
 
 The slow-enfolding mists ebb to and fro. 
 
 Winding damp arms about the rocky spires, 
 And, all too soon, from peak and scarped cliff 
 Fade the enchanted fires. 
 
 Over a jutting hill the moonlight stoops, 
 
 Touching with silver half the quiet lake ; 
 While, flush'd with secret loveliness, the clouds 
 A new-born glory take. 
 
 The day is past ; Night, like a sombre robe, 
 
 Falls o'er the face of Nature ; all is still ; 
 But in my soul a living Presence bides, — 
 Of mountain and of rill. 
 
 49 »
 
 The Poet. 
 
 ToD. M. Panton. 
 
 HE poet stood by the sea, 
 
 Under the brow of the night, 
 While the firmament flashed in stars 
 And the moon unveil'd her Hght ; 
 And the fireflies darted and shone, 
 
 And the sudden meteors gieam'd, 
 Dying out in the depths of a joy diviner 
 Than ever the poet had dream'd. 
 
 And an echo of minster bells 
 
 Stole up on the wings of the wind, 
 Filling the air with the chimes of Heav'n, 
 
 Utter'd to humankind ; 
 And the river swept noiselessly by 
 
 To the sea ; and the cataract leapt 
 Half a league in the light of its silver foam, 
 
 And the soul of the charm'd woods slept. 
 
 so
 
 THE POET. 
 
 And the heart of the poet was glad. 
 
 And he wrought him a noble psalm, 
 Crown'd with a vision of Life and Love, 
 
 And touch'd with a sacred calm ; 
 To the uttermost ends of the earth 
 
 That the feet of his fellows had trod 
 His song went out bv the way of the years. 
 
 And rose to the feet of God.
 
 A Winter's Walk: 
 
 Within view of the Wrekin,near Wrockwardine. 
 
 PON a shoulder of yon distant hill 
 That rises from a mist-enfolded plain, 
 The short-lived splendours of a winter's eve 
 Fade into purple shadow. Toward the east 
 A slumbrous haze hangs, like a funeral pall, 
 Mystic and silent in the waning light. 
 Against the unclouded blue of frosty skies 
 Each leafless tree a fairy network weaves, 
 Motionless ; while anon a drowsy bird, 
 The would-be harbinger of spring to come, 
 Pursues his doubtful quest across the dome 
 Of twilight fields, and down the glimmering lane. 
 Stilled are the myriad sounds of busy life, 
 Save when our curious ears catch, far away, 
 The clink of steel upon the frozen pool, 
 Some whistle from a farm, or, clear and quick 
 Upon the tingling air of icy night, 
 The sweet elf-music of a village chime.
 
 A Valentine, 
 
 WREATH of ivy and of snowdrops 
 pure 
 Came to delight me as with Spring's 
 bright breath ; 
 Thy love, my sweet, thy love that knows not death, 
 Seemed twined round each white bud; love with its lure 
 Of benedictions from the fallen year, 
 
 Of half-accomplished joys still veiled in gloom 
 Till life's unclouded summer breaks in bloom, 
 And light of wedded days dawn, calm and clear. 
 Dear, for an earnest of the bliss to be. 
 
 Take these poor lines, with careful art unwrought. 
 But welling into simplest melody 
 
 Straight from a heart whose love for thee has caught 
 A hidden rapture of perpetual song. 
 Whereof the radiance glows the whole day long. 
 
 53
 
 In the Tyernese Oberland. 
 
 August, 1893. 
 
 <2er 
 
 X paths of quiet joy and peace 
 
 Three perfect days went swiftly by ; 
 We watched the purple sunsets die, 
 And hailed the day's divine increase. 
 
 The Alpine peaks in dread arrav 
 
 Were our sublime companions then ; 
 We turned aside from haunts of men ; 
 
 We loved in secrecy to stray 
 
 And catch the icy breath of morn 
 
 Come blowing over frozen seas, 
 
 Which, glimmering thro' the ranks of trees. 
 
 Sloped from the sovran Wetterhorn. 
 
 54
 
 IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND. 55 
 
 From many a mountain terrace rose 
 Long leagues of immemorial rock, 
 That brave the stormy lightning's shock 
 
 And every wintry wind that blows 
 
 Across those Alpine barriers cold : 
 
 O peaks of terror touched with tears 
 Of all the dim and distant years 
 
 That o'er a sorrowing world have rolled ! 
 
 At daybreak oft we rose ; the hills 
 
 Put off their diadem of stars ; 
 
 O'er broken crag and level bars 
 Came whispers from a hundred rills. 
 
 In solemn pomp the mountain-kings 
 
 Flung up their brows to greet the dawn ; 
 While, as the azure-lidded Morn 
 
 Passed by on swift and radiant wings, 
 
 The white, lone fields of ice and snow 
 
 Burned blood-red. like a funeral-pyre ; 
 On every crest and stormy spire 
 
 Fell splendours of the sacred glow.
 
 56 IN THE BERNESE OBERLAND. 
 
 Far down the cloistered valley, bright 
 And tranquil in the early beam, 
 We watched the sudden torrent gleam 
 
 In sliding arcs of lucid light. 
 
 The forests, mute with all their leaves, 
 Rejoiced at touch of day unveiled ; 
 Night's everv vagrant shadow quailed 
 
 Before the sigh which Morning heaves.
 
 /// the UdtschenthaL 
 
 Inscribed to S. R. S., the companion of my wanderings in that 
 
 pleasantest and most secluded of Swiss valleys, during 
 
 the summer of 1894. 
 
 [RIGHT and f:iir, in the cold, still air, :\nd 
 robed in vesture of stainless white. 
 Pure as a sky when song-notes die of 
 even, ebbing away to night, 
 Seems the glow of the far-off" snow whose radiance 
 crowns the untrodden height. 
 
 Here, alone as I stand, the moan of streams that 
 
 murmur adown the hills, 
 Strikes mine ear with a cadence clear and soft as a 
 
 voice which, rejoicing, thrills 
 Thro' the heart of a man when start Love's first shy 
 
 preludes that rapture fills. 
 
 57
 
 58 /.\' THE LOTSCHF.NTHAL. 
 
 Faint and far is the first-boni star whose pale lamp 
 
 hangs upon vender crest, 
 Dim and white in the lessening light ; and fainter 
 
 still in the cloudless west 
 Idiv dream in the sun's spent gleam the ghosts of a 
 
 glory sunk to rest. 
 
 Strange yet sweet are the thoughts whose feet make 
 
 silent music, as o'er the mind 
 Soft they steal at Memory's heel, like fancies borne 
 
 on a fitful wind, — 
 Thoughts whose breath is supreme o'er Death that 
 
 fails not ever, nor looks behind.
 
 In Memoi'iain, 
 
 H. P. T. 
 
 Died April 6, 1895. 
 
 (If III Hkii (JiiXiivcrii' n—iilh'i'ifri^ei yfoc. 
 
 Menan'dfr. 
 
 0-NIGHT, upon rhe brink of this blue 
 lake 
 Whose waters lave the soft Italian shore, 
 I stand amid a hush of all things, sore 
 At heart, and sorrowful for thy dead sake. 
 Child, whose brief course is run. We vainly make 
 Our horoscope of each young life, and store 
 The coming years with glory ; for evermore, 
 Unrecked, Death's presence follows in the wake. 
 
 O not for thee the stress and strife of years, 
 Life's fevered joys and its abiding pains ! 
 
 No more that mute, cold brow shall cloud in tears ; 
 Not thine the cares that fret, the light that wanes ! 
 
 The hidden mystery of God now lies 
 
 Clear, like an open scroll, before thine eyes. 
 
 I.ago Maggiorc, 
 April 14. 
 
 59
 
 On a May Alorriing. 
 
 May 22, 1895. 
 
 ORN ! and the heart of the earth 
 Is visibly stirred, 
 Beating in tune with a voice that the 
 Heaven hath heard, 
 When, laughing amain in his mirth, 
 
 The Lord of the day 
 Upriseth to greet the birth 
 
 Of" the new-born May. 
 
 Cometh across the sea 
 
 The faint expectant ray. 
 In rapture and holy glee, 
 Lingering low adown on the virgin strand ; 
 And the soul of the wondering land 
 Awaketh free. 
 60
 
 OU A AfAY MORNING. 6i 
 
 A glory of dawn hath struck 
 
 To the pulse of the world ; 
 Over the dim woods, mute in solemn array, 
 
 A silent splendour is whirled — 
 Splendour of joy unborn 
 
 And of hours unfurled. 
 
 AW thro' the valleys wide 
 The great mists roll 
 In measureless tide ; 
 High on their dazzling brows are the fires of morn 
 In rapture of soul upborne. 
 And never a waking flower 
 But is clad in the golden dower 
 Of the wealth of springs of the Dawn flowing forth 
 in his might. 
 While over the awestruck hills 
 Dance the magic feet of the rills 
 In music of flight. 
 
 The reign of the dark-crowned Night is over and done, 
 Death-doomed at the glance of the Sun !
 
 The U'^andcrer, 
 
 -c.^-.- 
 
 ESIDK this sea-encumbered strand 
 Where, glimmering faint across the sand, 
 
 I The white low lines of tortured foam 
 Are vainly seeking for a home, 
 I wancier silently and slow 
 And watch the surges come and go. 
 
 Above, the star-embroidered skies 
 
 Unshut their myriad-glancing eyes, — 
 
 Those unknown depths of living light 
 
 Set in the hollow of the night : 
 
 Beneath, there heaves the insurgent sea. 
 
 Stern symbol of Eternity. 
 
 'Twixt these two infinites stand I — 
 
 The echoing sea and silent sky, 
 
 A wanderer, whose life's strands are cast 
 
 Midmost the grey abysmal i^ast 
 
 62
 
 THE WANDERER. 63 
 
 And unscanned Future, heeding not 
 If life be man's sublimer lot, 
 Or close of life, when man lays down 
 His burden and puts on the crown. 
 
 The swift stars throb within their sphere, 
 And hour by hour, and year by year, 
 Perform, thro' never-ending Time, 
 The functions of a life sublime ; 
 While, thro' unnumbered ages, still 
 The great seas work their Maker's will. 
 Lo, in majestic period 
 The wide creation worships God. 
 
 Ah ! soul of mine, if oft thy part 
 In life with fret and aching heart 
 Be compassed, still hold firmly on — 
 No rest, till the long race be won ! 
 The chains that bind us here are strong, 
 And forged with links of Doubt and Wrong ; 
 Yet patience ! far beyond this strife 
 Where sin and woe breed discord rife,
 
 64 THE WANDERER. 
 
 Beyond our brief horizon — set, 
 Like some uno'erleaped parapet, 
 To stay our steps from realms that lie 
 (Their glories screened from human eye) 
 Upon the turther side — there come, 
 Like voices from an oft-sought home, 
 Grave words our ears perhaps had caught 
 In childhood's hours, and now are fraught 
 With peace, — sweet hints that God has sent 
 For counsel and encouragement ! 
 
 Christmas^ 189^;.
 
 In the Twilight. 
 
 V'ER the dusky verge 
 
 Of the quiet lea, 
 
 Slowly I watch emerge 
 
 The silver rim 
 Of the crescent moon; pale, dim. 
 The soft stars, one by one, 
 
 With holy glee 
 Steal out, and light their lamps; 
 
 For day is done. 
 
 The tempests are asleep : 
 
 Only the balm 
 Of some cool evening wind 
 
 Ruffles the calm : 
 The listening ear of Night 
 Can catch no sound 
 Save when, in slumber bound, 
 Earth turns and sighs : 
 
 Peace rules the deep. 
 6s
 
 66 IN THE TWILIGHT. 
 
 Aye, peace ! across the dark 
 
 Star-paven sky 
 The Night-queen's silver hark 
 
 Goes gliding by : 
 With murmuring faint, the streams 
 Drowse as they flow 
 In their hid channels ; slow 
 Down-dropping dews 
 Slide from the heavens, like gleams 
 
 Of Love-born dreams. 
 
 Frail breaths of jessamine, 
 
 Of roses fair. 
 Shy hints of mignonette. 
 
 Rise thro' the air 
 From unseen gardens, there — 
 
 Beneath my feet. 
 Ah me ! how at their spell 
 
 Swift fancies rise ! 
 What touching sympathies, 
 What golden memories, 
 
 And thoughts how sweet !
 
 The Light from the Golden Isles. 
 
 S some tired voyager through unknown 
 lands 
 Beholds, across the mists that rise at eve, 
 An arc of light that glimmers to the heaven 
 Crowning the city that he seeks afar ; 
 And so takes heart, and moves with swifter step 
 In eager longing to descry once more 
 The haunts of men grown unfamiliar, 
 And fancies that he hears the busy hum 
 Of life bestirring in each crowded street, 
 And deems he sees, unrolled before his eyes, 
 The panorama of a world in brief: 
 Ev'n so I, moving down Time's shadowy ways, 
 Amid Life's broodmg passion of unrest 
 Oft catch, as twilights gather, a far gleam. 
 Some momentary splendour from the marge 
 Of Death's majestic sea; a mystic light 
 
 67
 
 r)S THE LIGHT FROM THE GOLDEN LSLES. 
 
 Raved in the stillness from the Golden Isles, 
 Those Golden Isles of everlasting day, 
 Whose holy shores are laved by stormless tides 
 Midmost the Ocean of Eternity. 
 
 O happy Isles, ringed round with bliss 
 
 In yon dim underworld, 
 Whose shores soft-whispering wavelets kiss, 
 
 Whose beauties lie unfurled 
 To every wind that floats o'er fields 
 
 Angelic feet have trod — 
 For you I yearn, bright Isles of Peace, 
 
 Set in the sea of God ! 
 1896.
 
 The Mother and the Child, 
 
 |NE summer's afternoon when all things 
 sweet 
 In flower and sunshine o'er the fair 
 fields smiled, 
 I saw, upon the lawn spread at my feet, 
 A mother and her child. 
 
 Her eyes were bent upon the little form 
 
 That nestled close within her warm embrace, 
 And often would she pause, and lift the veil, 
 To stroke the sleeper's face. 
 
 A gracious presence looked she, pacing there 
 
 With measured step and slow ; and ah! the sound 
 Of whispered greetings into sleeping ears 
 Touched me with jov profound. 
 
 69
 
 70 THE MOTHER AKD THE CHHD. 
 
 Entranced I stood, nor dared to break the spell 
 
 So pure a vision kindled in my heart : 
 I watched the sunlight falling on the twain 
 Making the sleeper start ; 
 
 And then I turned : across the happy fields 
 
 Stole breathing: balms and scent ot summer flowers, 
 Like unseen trophies brought bv unseen hands 
 Wrested from unseen powers. 
 
 1 heeded not their liu-e ; before me rose 
 
 That picture of the mother and her child, 
 
 On whose fair lives God's glory seemed to float 
 
 In sunbeams soft and mild. 
 
 Jioid, 1897.
 
 In Meinoriam, 
 
 Rev. Richard Elwyn 
 
 {Master of the Charterhouse ; Canon of Canterbury) ^ 
 Died September 28, 1897. 
 
 ASTER, whose latest words re-echo still 
 Within yon reverend walls that crown 
 this old 
 Historic town, so grey amid the dim 
 And silent memories of its vanished past ; 
 Here where, with eyes of mirth, you lately spoke 
 Your message, prompted by the sweet child-heart 
 That beat beneath the snows of seventy years — • 
 Aye here, amid this world of dawning lives 
 Made brighter by your presence, fain would I 
 — Heart speaking out to heart, tho' worlds away — 
 This last time hail you. 
 
 Ah, we dream, we dream ! 
 'T\s you that have awakened from life's dream ; 
 
 71
 
 /A' MEMORIAM. 
 
 And, while we idly beat with feeble hands 
 And wearied spirits gainst the prison doors 
 That cloke the light of Heaven from our view, 
 You, in unclouded vision, have looked forth 
 And gazed upon the unveiled face of God. 
 
 So we, that wait but see not, cherishing 
 That summer-memorv you left with us, 
 Lay, by the tired brow so still in death, 
 This lowly tribute, like a flower that blooms 
 Its one brief hour, and, fading, dies away.
 
 •^'^ 
 
 -«
 
 A M^nter Moonlight. 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 TifE sight that met 
 
 Our gaze was one of those swift glimpses caught 
 At intervals — too rare, alas ! — that haunt 
 Our after-life like hints of Heaven. Above 
 Hung the pale moon all in a wintry sky, 
 Wearing that frozen smile upon her face, 
 'Mid orbs of bliss shot thro' with living fire, 
 And constellations massed in depths of light 
 Unfathomable ; while, horizonwards, 
 Clad in the garment of majestic peace, 
 Lay the enchanted sea. No stormy surge 
 From those salt-laden lips disturbed our joy, 
 But only the low music of the arched 
 Inevitable wave that, landward drawn 
 From out the slumbering ocean's silver tides. 
 Fell, as the lightest whisper spoken, to hush 
 Its foam-bright water on the glassy sands.
 
 Sunset on the Richhorouoh Road. 
 
 October 7, 1897. 
 
 To M, E. P. 
 
 LEAR heights of heaven that welcomed 
 back, 
 Thro' all your domes of laughhig blue, 
 The face of yon slow-setting sun 
 
 What time his punctual course was due ; 
 Across your crimson -fretted rack 
 
 What rush of purple fancy flies ! 
 What tumult of divine unrest 
 
 As the long evening splendour dies ! 
 
 Unfolded far by unseen hands 
 
 The curtains of the radiant day 
 Drop, blood-red, o'er the shining floods 
 
 That mock the sunbeams at their play ; 
 In many a backward-fleeting curve 
 
 Unwind the tresses of the Night, 
 And over all the level lands 
 
 Wavers the fast-retreating- Hght. 
 
 74
 
 SUNSET O.V THE RICH BOROUGH ROAD. 
 
 Like mystic echoes caught in dreams 
 
 From some loud ocean's golden rim, 
 O'er sandswept dune and shadowy pool 
 
 Steal fragments of a cosmic hymn ; 
 While sleep the winds and slide the dews 
 
 Thro' calms of even, far and wide 
 The landlocked haven, bathed in mist 
 
 Hears murmurs of the incoming tide.
 
 Autumn Music\ 
 
 Oct. 29, 1897. 
 
 ALM and bright, 
 This Aurumti day 
 Holds in fee 
 The wealth of May. 
 
 Sweet and strong 
 The sunbeams gleam 
 Over meadow 
 And over stream. 
 
 Where the morning 
 Mists lie low 
 Webs of fairy 
 Gossamer glow. 
 
 Thro' the lawns 
 Are strewn anew 
 Million sparks 
 Of diamond dew. 
 76
 
 A UTUMN MUSIC. 77 
 
 Seaward lo ! 
 The primrose bar 
 Of the sundawn 
 Shines afar. 
 
 Bold the heart 
 
 Of radiant June ; 
 
 Magical 
 
 Her depths of noon ; 
 
 But a subtler 
 Purer bliss 
 Seems to breathe 
 In Autumn's kiss ; 
 
 Touching chords 
 Of music fine, 
 All-elusive, 
 Half divine.
 
 The IPassing of Summer, 
 
 ASTWARD, a level line of lifted sea 
 Frowned o'er by bars of cloud ; westward, 
 the flush 
 
 Of swift indignant sunset, all too soon 
 Melting to shadow ; yonder, in the north, 
 Zones of incumbent mist that hourly shift 
 Their airy station ; far to southward, lo ! 
 A sleeping range of lowly-ordered hills 
 In solemn twilights hushed. 
 
 Ah, summer suns, 
 How soon ye fade, nor leave one glow behind 
 Of all your glory ! how the days decrease. 
 And strong the night winds mutter ! Once again, 
 Thro' mellow Autumn's lingering robe of gold, 
 Starteth white Winter's iron hand : anon 
 
 78
 
 THE PASSING OF SUMMER. 79 
 
 His ice-mailed cohorts will descend, and rob 
 Our fields of all their joy, and bring the long 
 Cold nights about our heads. 
 
 But Earth, the while, 
 Happy, shall nurse her deep immortal heart, 
 Biding the resurrection of the Spring. 

 
 Ep//o(rue, 
 
 Voices After Sunset. 
 
 CROSS the bay, when every glory-cloud 
 Had died athwart the sunset ; in the 
 strange 
 
 Divine enchantment of the afterglow 
 When all the world is hushed, and stars grow^ bright, — 
 I heard, or seemed to hear, a Voice that rose 
 From out the depths of immemorial years, 
 To breathe a whisper from the sundering Past. 
 Across the bay, and over the long line 
 Of wandering foam-bells on the sleepless bar, 
 That Voice bare witness of all secret things, 
 The while it stole adown the low grey shore 
 And fell into a whisper thro' the hills. 
 It spake of dreams that, when the days were young, 
 Called sudden glories into marvellous life ; 
 
 8o
 
 VOICES AFTER SUNSET. 8l 
 
 Of visions seen when hearts, made strong in faith, 
 Were crowned with lightness as the morning sun 
 Is crowned with might and joy ; visions that came 
 And vanished down the silent gulfs of Death 
 And never more returned. It told of Hope 
 That laughed and woke a music in the soul 
 When life was one sweet summer ; radiant Hope 
 That drooped too soon, on whose brow Grief had set 
 His chaplet of derision. Still the Voice 
 Took up the tale, and rolled its record forth, 
 Singing of Love who wandered, long ago. 
 O'er many a rose-strewn tract, till, 'mid the pride 
 Of conscious joy, pale Sorrow, touching him, 
 Shook the wild splendours from his golden wings, 
 And mocked the voung-eyed triumph in his gaze, 
 And reft his beauty from him, smiting down 
 His pride, and wrecked his swift imperious life 
 Upon the starless seas of gaunt Despair. 
 '' O Voice," I cried, as, in a sudden pause. 
 The song-notes faltered in the twilight hush, 
 " Is this the sum of all thy song ? is this 
 Thine only guerdon to beseeching hearts ? "
 
 S3 VOICES AFTER SUNSET. 
 
 Lo, with the words yet hot upon my lips, 
 Forth from the glimmering portal of the west, 
 A larger utterance seemed to pierce the void 
 Of slumber-laden darkness, — utterance winged 
 With hallowed music from the choir of Heaven, 
 Which charmed the soul to rapture, filling it 
 With peace that passeth knowledge, and the light 
 Of Faith and hoary Hope. Methought the air 
 Did throb with song and welcome ; every star 
 Blazed with a sevenfold glory ; and mine ear, 
 Lifted to listen, caught, or seemed to catch, 
 Immortal echoes from angelic harps. 
 
 "Faith is not dead," so spake the Voice, "nor Hope, 
 
 Nor Love ; they suffer but eclipse awhile. 
 
 What time the shadow of an earthly life, 
 
 And darkness wrought by evil round the world. 
 
 Have marred the brightness, and have dimmed the gleam 
 
 Of those three deathless stars — Love, Mercy, Truth, 
 
 That flame upon the diadem of God." 
 
 July 8, 1893.
 
 List of Subscribers. 
 
 Adams, Edgar, Halstead. 
 Adams, Dr. T. R., J. P., Croydon. 
 Allex, Mrs. Charles. Taunton. 
 AxDKRsox, Mrs. \V. R., Eastry. 
 AUSTEX, Rev. Benjamin, Walnier. 
 
 Baker, Sir Geo. Sherston, Bart., i, The Cloisters, Middle 
 
 Temple. 
 Baker, Dick, Sandwich. 
 
 Batch ELAR, Fredk. \V., Croydon. (3 copies.) 
 Beax, Mrs., 82, Cambridge Terrace, Hyde Park. 
 Beck, George, Petersfield. 
 
 Bedwell, F. le B., R.N., 38, Old Broad Street. E.C. 
 Blaxlaxd, William, Sandwicli. 
 Bliss, Rev. Canon, Betteshanger. 
 Blyth, M. M., Notting Hill, \V. 
 Bkowx, William, Croydon. 
 Bkowx, Miss L. E., Chester. 
 Bulev, Mrs., Woodnesborough. 
 
 Carolix, Rev. Sinclair, M..\., Colchester. 
 
 Carr, J. W., Sandwich. 
 
 C.\TT, A. J., Sandwich. 
 
 Chapmax, H. S., Deal. 
 
 Chichester, Rev. A. M., Sandwich. 
 
 Chipmax, Mrs., 104, Holland Ruad, Kensington. 
 
 Chumlev, John, Croydon. 
 
 Churchward, Rev. Prebendary, Xortham. 
 
 Cloke, Fred. S., Sandwich. 
 
 CoLEMAX, Mrs. G., Deal. 
 
 CoLLETT, Mrs., Ringleton.
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 85 
 
 Cox, Lt.-Col., Easton, Eastry. 
 
 Craxage, Rev., D. H. vS., Wellington. (2 copies.) 
 
 Cl'li'Eck, Benjamin, Croydon. 
 
 Curling, Mrs., Sandwich. 
 
 Dixox, Mrs., Cambridge. 
 
 Eastly, a., Croydon. 
 
 Edmett, Mrs. M. F., Maidstone. (2 copies.) 
 
 EnsKi.E, Dr., Thame, Oxon. 
 
 KosEi.L, IMrs., Whitchurch. 
 
 ENrMERSOX, R. J., Sandwicii. 
 
 Fairer, Frederick William, West Crovdon. (2 copies.) 
 
 Fakraxt, Miss E. H., Taunton. 
 
 Faugh Eux, F., Folkestone. 
 
 Fexwick, Mrs., Sandwich. 
 
 Flower, Rev. Canon, Worth. 
 
 Flower, Miss Catherine, 14, Norfolk Crescent, Hyde Park. 
 
 Foster, Rev. A. M., High Littleton, Bristol. 
 
 Fkaxklix, H., Croydon. 
 
 FULKER, Charles, Croydon. 
 
 Gale, Rev. Prebendarv, Cleeve Vicarage, Yatton. 
 
 Gardxer, ]\Irs., Ash. 
 
 Gedge, ^Irs., Victoria Street, London. 
 
 CiiLBERT, Alfred, R.A., Maida \'ale. (2 copies.) 
 
 Godfrey, \. F., Ash. 
 
 Greex, Walter J.. Upton House, Worth. (2 copies.) 
 
 Greex, Mrs. Stafford, Wiiitmore, Chumleigh, X. Devon. 
 
 Greex, E. J., Queen's College, Oxford. 
 
 Greexstreet, J. J., Deal. 
 
 Gregory, Mrs., Upper Norwood. 
 
 (iRlKFix, Geo. B., Sandwich. 
 
 Hammoxd, Miss, Tunbridge Wells. 
 Haxdscombe, Fredk., Croydon. 
 Haxkey, Gilbert, Great Mongeham. 
 Harrissox, W. R., Sandwich. (2 copies.)
 
 ,S6 LIST OF SUBSCR/BERS. 
 
 Hakkissox, Dr. ). W'., Sandwich. 
 
 Hkxtku, Klv. William, Cothclcslonc l\irsona}*e, BisliojVs 
 
 Lydeard. 
 IIkxtkk, \V. V. P., (iraniniar School, Sandwich. 
 Hicks, R. D., M.A. Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 Hicks, Mrs. E., Sandwich. 
 Hicks, H., Sandwich. 
 
 Hill, Dr. A., Vice-Chancellor, Cambridge University. 
 HoBSOX, J. M., I\I.D., Croydon. 
 IloLL.\xi), Mrs., Ramsgatc. 
 Hope, Sir Theodore C, K.C.S.I., 21, Klvaston Place, 
 
 Queen's Gate. 
 HowK, H. A., Croydon. 
 Hughes, William J., C.A., J. P., Sandwich. 
 HussEY, Chas., J. P., Croydon. 
 
 Ievers, Mrs. \V., Ramsgatc. 
 Iredell, Colonel J. S., Croydon. 
 Iredell, J. S., Croydon. 
 
 J.vcKsox, T. G., R.A., Wimbledon. 
 
 J.vcKsox, G. B., Croydon. 
 
 Jacobs, J. A., J. P., Sandwich. 
 
 J.vcoHS, Israel, Deal. 
 
 JoLLiFEE, Mrs., Southsea. 
 
 JoTCH.AM, T. M., Sandwich. 
 
 Joyce, Mrs., Stonar, Sandwich. (3 copies.) 
 
 Krno, H., Bournemouth, W. 
 Kxox, Leet, Capt. R.N., Croydon. 
 
 Lister, Walter, J. P., Eastry. (2 copies.) 
 
 Lister, Miss Edian, Eastry. 
 
 Long, Miss, Woodnesborough. 
 
 Lowther, Rt. Hon. James, M.P., 59, Grosvenor Street, W. 
 
 Lucas, E. G. Handel, Croydon. 
 
 Luff, Capt., Croydon. 
 
 Macleax, Hector, F.G.S., Croydon.
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 M.VRTiy, W. Randall, Croydon. 
 
 May, H. W., Sandwich. 
 
 Mayo, Samuel, Deal. 
 
 McNeile, Rev. G., Liverpool. 
 
 Mee, F. Franklin, Ramsgate. 
 
 Mercy, T., Sandwich. 
 
 Miller, David B., J. P., Croydon. 
 
 Miller, J., Burington, Croydon. 
 
 Moore, H. Keatley, B.A., Mus. Bac, East Croydon. 
 
 Morris, C, M.A., Ramsgate. 
 
 MouLE, INIrs. Handley, Ridley Hall, Cambridge. 
 
 MouRiLYAX, Capt., R.N., Deal. 
 
 Nethersole, M., Staple. 
 
 Newman, Rev. S., Hastings. 
 
 Noble, H., Wimbledon. 
 
 NoRTHBOURNE, Rt. Hon. Loid, Bctteshanger. 
 
 Oldfield, F., Sandwich. 
 OvERTOX, Fredk., Croydon. 
 
 Padley, Mrs., Sandwich. 
 
 Page, W. R., Croydon. 
 
 Page, Miss, Turnbridge Wells. 
 
 Paxtox, D. M., Ipswich. 
 
 Pattersox, I\Iiss L., Melville. Bidctord. (3 copies.) 
 
 P.vyxe, Rev. Dr. D. Bruce, Deal. 
 
 Peltox, John, Croydon. 
 
 PiTTMAX, J. J., Croydon. 
 
 PiLCHER, R. A., Sandwich. 
 
 Pless, H.R.H, The Princess of, Furstenstcin, Schlesien. 
 
 Plumptre, C. J., J. P., Fredville, Dover. 
 
 Prior, Geo. Cosens, Portsmouth. 
 
 Purton, Rev. W. A., Ramsgate. 
 
 Rae, Mrs., Eastry, Dover. 
 Reed, E. H., Croydon. 
 RiCHARDsox, J. O., Peckham. 
 RiCHFORD, E. M., Broadstairs.
 
 SS LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 RoRKRTs, T. L.. Ranisgate. 
 
 Rolls, Frcdk., Ramsgatc. . 
 
 Roscow, Rev. Bentley, Sandwich. (3 copies.) 
 
 Russell, Charles, Deal. 
 
 S.vrow, Mrs. ]\I. M. 1'., Folkestone. (5 copies.) 
 
 S.\UNDEKS, Capt. J. \V., Launceston. 
 
 S.vuNOERs, \V. R., Ash, Dover. 
 
 Sawyer, William, Croydon. 
 
 Sergeant, V. C. Farel, Deanmaris, X.W. 
 
 Sherwood, Frederick, Hailsham. (3 copies.) 
 
 Simmons, W. C, Sandwich. 
 
 Smalk, Rev. W., St. Philip's Vicarage, Kensington. 
 
 SMrrn, Rivers S., Ramsgate. 
 
 Smith, Mrs. Parsons, Croydon. 
 
 Smith ERS, George, i, Duke Street, London Bridge. 
 
 Stai'LEHOX, Mrs., Northam, Hideford. 
 
 Stri:eter, John S., Croydon. 
 
 « 
 
 Thompson, C. E., M.A., Ramsgate. 
 
 ToRR, James F. (Recorder of Deal), Kensington, \V 
 
 Upcott, Rev. A. W., Canterbury. 
 
 Waghorx, a., Croydon. 
 Wall, Rev. F. Hewson, LL.D., York. 
 W^ESTROPE, John, Camberwell, S.E. 
 Wheeler, Walter W., Deal. 
 
 Yarrow, A., Sandwich. 
 Yetts, Muskett, South Croydon. 
 
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