;v\\\ N>\>^\^VAvs>*5ll 
 
 SONNETS AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 
 ISABELLA J. SOUTHERN 
 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SONNETS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 ISABELLA J. SOUTHERN. 
 
 LONDON: 
 WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE, 
 
 PATERNOSTRR ROW. 
 1891.
 
 
 TO 
 
 MY FATHER 
 THOMAS PALLISTER BARKAS. 
 
 85S89G
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Action and Re-action .... 
 
 Of Death 
 
 Of Language 
 
 The Ministration of Nature 
 
 Law 
 
 Love 
 
 Liberty 
 
 A Sleepless Night 
 
 The Development of the Wedding Ring 
 Of Rebellion and Suffering 
 
 Cordelia 
 
 "Sing not Sad Lays" 
 
 The Limitation of Choice 
 
 The Martyr 
 
 Life's Justification 
 
 Past and Present 
 
 The Future .... 
 
 Of Life .... 
 
 The Reformer 
 
 Tried by Success 
 
 The Sacrament of Failure 
 
 Of Duty .... 
 
 The Sleep of Sorrow . 
 
 Evolution .... 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 5 
 6 
 
 7 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 lO 
 
 II 
 
 12 
 
 13-14 
 
 15 
 16 
 
 17 
 18 
 
 >9 
 20 
 21 
 22 
 
 23 
 
 24 
 
 25
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Of Sympathy 26 
 
 Preparation is Inspiration 
 
 " What Dost Thou Know ? " .... 
 
 Of True Love 
 
 Of Silence and Speech 
 
 27 
 
 28 
 
 29 
 
 30 
 
 The Joy of Production 31-32 
 
 . . • . -33 
 
 34 
 
 35 
 
 . . . . 36 
 
 37 
 
 . . . . 38 
 
 39 
 
 40 
 
 The World Within 
 
 Sick unto Death 
 
 Of Active Resignation 
 
 Unconscious Influence . 
 
 The Celibate . 
 
 Of Maturity and Growth 
 
 The Spectre of Want . 
 
 Nature .... 
 
 SONNETS OF THE CITY. 
 
 John Hancock .... 
 The Old Castle .... 
 The Cathedral .... 
 The Central Station 
 The Church of the Divine Unity 
 The Public Library .... 
 The Cemetery .... 
 The Rev. Frank Walters 
 
 41 
 42 
 
 43 
 
 44 
 
 45 
 46 
 
 47 
 48 
 
 Natural and Supernatural 
 
 Of Twilight and Melancholy 
 
 Is Love Eternal ? 
 
 In Cloudland .... 
 
 A Dawning Faith . 
 
 Praise is Blame ! . . . 
 
 The Transformation of Pain 
 
 Autumn 
 
 Of Children .... 
 Of Failure and Progress 
 Loving and Beloved 
 
 49 
 50 
 51 
 
 52 
 53 
 54 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 58 
 59
 
 COJSTEJSTS. 
 
 vu 
 
 The Earth 
 
 Shakespeare . 
 
 John Milton 
 
 Robert Browning 
 
 The Rising Tide 
 
 A. Magnetic Personality 
 
 The Gift of Hope 
 
 The Point of View 
 
 Subterranean Currents 
 
 To Each, His Own 
 
 Is There any End? 
 
 "He that Loveth his Lifi 
 
 Of Education by Choice 
 
 Suffer, and be Strong 
 
 Of Presentiments 
 
 Of Existence and Life 
 
 In Oxford .... 
 
 Disuse and Decay 
 
 Limited and Limitless 
 
 Of Passion 
 
 The Nineteenth Century 
 
 After Rain 
 
 A Selfish Paradise 
 
 Driven Out ! 
 
 Of Genius and Humility 
 
 The Telegraph Wires 
 
 The Spring-time of Love 
 
 New Year's Eve 
 
 A Tragedy 
 
 Of Seeming Waste 
 
 The Indestructibility 
 
 Matter and Spirit 
 
 Of Heroism 
 
 Hidden 
 
 The Wages of Sin 
 
 Suspense . 
 
 Among the Hills 
 
 SHAI 
 
 OF Hope 
 
 Lose it 
 
 PAGK 
 
 60 
 
 61 
 62 
 
 63 
 
 64 
 
 65 
 
 66 
 
 67 
 68 
 69 
 70 
 
 71 
 
 72 
 
 11> 
 
 74 
 
 75 
 76 
 
 11 
 78 
 
 79 
 80 
 81 
 82 
 
 83 
 84 
 
 85 
 86 
 
 87 
 88 
 
 89 
 90 
 
 91 
 
 92 
 
 93 
 
 94-95 
 96 
 
 97
 
 vin 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Vicarious Suffering 
 
 The Discoverer 
 
 Carnival 
 
 Lent 
 
 Conversion 
 
 A Reverie 
 
 Of Blindness 
 
 The Evolution of Womanhood . . . .105 
 
 A Sunbeam 
 
 Then and Now 
 
 Of Immortality 
 
 Of Pruning and Production .... 
 
 "The Divine Unrest" 
 
 Of Consciousness 
 
 Tears 
 
 Christmas Day 
 
 The Boiling Point 
 
 Repentance and Restitution .... 
 
 The Lily 
 
 An Open Grave '. 
 
 The Pagan's Protest . 
 
 Expectation is Prophecy 
 
 A Retrospect 
 
 Look Upward 
 
 Of Sorrow 
 
 Of Discontent 
 
 A Bride's Birthday 
 
 "Out of the Eater cometh forth Meat' 
 
 The Pioneer of Progress 
 
 Rest, or Renewed Activity 
 
 Of Sincerity 
 
 Count Tolstoi . . 
 
 Of Gravitation . . . 
 
 Of Selfishness 
 
 A Sensitive Plate 
 
 A Gospel of Science 
 
 The Elasticity of Time 
 
 PAGE 
 
 98 
 
 99 
 00 
 
 [Ol 
 
 [02 
 103 
 104 
 \o-] 
 
 108 
 109 
 
 10 
 II 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 14 
 
 15 
 16 
 
 17 
 18 
 
 19 
 
 r2o 
 
 [21 
 [22 
 [23 
 
 (24 
 
 [25 
 [26 
 
 [27 
 
 [28 
 [29 
 [30 
 
 31 
 32 
 
 '34 
 f35 
 t36
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 IX 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Nature's Masquerade 
 Search is Best 
 The Dying Boy . 
 The Heart's Reply 
 The Ruling Power . 
 The Very Gate of Heaven 
 Changes .... 
 A Life's Revelations 
 Of Trifles .... 
 Fulfilled, yet Unfulfilled 
 Of Choice .... 
 The Harvest Moon 
 The Realm of Music 
 
 My Ring 
 
 A Day-Dream 
 
 The Sisters .... 
 
 A Day in June . 
 
 The Progress of Liberty . 
 
 Escaped ! . ... 
 
 Dreams 
 
 The Search for Truth . 
 The Aged Fisherwoman 
 An Autumn Morning 
 Not Fallen, but Evolving 
 Twilight Thoughts . 
 Whence ? .... 
 
 A Christmas Story 
 Lord Armstrong 
 Picturis of a Life . 
 Snow in Spring 
 " Out of much Tribul.\tion ' 
 The Many and the Few 
 In M.agdalen Chapel 
 Fleeting or Im.mortai 
 Of Be.\uiv .... 
 
 . 141 
 
 M5 
 . 148 
 
 149 
 . 150 
 
 154 
 
 • 155 
 158 
 
 . 159 
 162 
 
 ■ 163 
 164 
 169 
 171 
 
 • 173 
 175 
 
 . 176 
 
 178-182 
 
 . 183 
 
 185 
 . 186 
 
 188 
 
 • 191 
 
 192 
 . 200 
 
 202 
 . 204 
 
 205 
 . 207 
 
 209 
 . 21 1 
 
 21",
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Re-union 216 
 
 Cast thy Bread upon the Waters . . . 217 
 
 Lydia 218 
 
 Variety 221 
 
 Before the Curtain 222 
 
 On the Stage 223 
 
 A Fusion of Mind and Matter .... 224 
 
 Through Brother to Brotherhood . . 226 
 
 "One Thing I Know" 230 
 
 Present, though Unseen 231 
 
 A Successful Man 233 
 
 Hope and Resignation 235 
 
 Times of Transition 236 
 
 The Altar Lamp 239 
 
 True Happiness 242 
 
 The Thirst for Knowledge 243 
 
 A Harvest Vision 245 
 
 Home Again ! 247 
 
 "Thoughts are Things" . 249 
 
 "Beneath the Stars" 250 
 
 The Gate of Peace 253 
 
 Twin-Stars 255 
 
 The Pursuit of Pleasure 257
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 • ♦• 
 
 INTO THE OCEAN. 
 
 Upon an isle I stand, 
 And all around the restless ocean flows; 
 I hear its ceaseless surging as it goes 
 
 Through caves along the strand; 
 And as I gaze, it seems that all I learn, 
 Or dream, or think, is like the tiny burn 
 
 That gurgles past my feet, 
 
 Those mighty waves to greet, 
 So small it is, while O, where'er I turn, 
 
 The seething main outspreads, 
 
 Till with the sky it weds, 
 Nor ends e'en there, where earth seems heaven to 
 
 meet. 
 Despairingly my heart begins to beat, 
 
 " Why labour so?" it asks; 
 
 " Too arduous are the tasks 
 Of this great world for hands so weak as thine.''
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 But sunbeams glinting, fall 
 
 Athwart the moss-grown wall, 
 And on the murmuring streamlet brightly shine. 
 Flashing consoling messages divine 
 
 Into my heavy eyes ; 
 
 " Life's smallest never dies," 
 The brooklet whispers, running to the sea, 
 Content to freshen that infinity ! 
 
 I. J. s. 
 
 22)rd March, 1891.
 
 SONNETS 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 ACTION AND RE-ACTION. 
 
 Upon a Mount of Vision, with clear eyes, 
 
 One stands for whom the walls of space dissolve 
 He sees the doer and the deep resolve, 
 
 The act accomplished. Then the action flies 
 
 To set in motion force that never dies ; 
 
 It passes worlds which round the sun revolve, 
 Strange consequences in its mesh to involve, 
 
 While still in seeming death the agent lies. 
 
 Upon himself his deed must needs re-act, 
 
 Or here or there 'twill come back to his hand ; 
 And with it all the unexpected band 
 
 It brought to life. Around him then, intact 
 
 For good or ill, unbroken and compact. 
 The circle of his influence shall stand !
 
 OF DEATH. 
 
 OF DEATH. 
 
 I LAY and looked at Deatli. His face was mild ; 
 
 He took me in his arms to ease my pain, 
 As mothers lift a weary, helpless child, 
 
 And then, — ah ! then, he laid me down again. 
 And whispered gently as he calmly smiled, 
 
 " 'Tis yet a little while ere thou shalt gain 
 The Silent Land." The snowy pillows piled 
 
 Grew wet with disappointment's bitter rain. 
 
 To almost know what lies beyond the grave, 
 To be returned upon this rugged shore, 
 To struggle back to health and strength once more- 
 May God my loved ones from such trial save ! 
 And yet 'tis His to use the life He gave ; 
 His purposes no mortal may explore.
 
 OF LAAGUAGE. 
 
 OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 In words, as in a clinging drapery, 
 
 Men clothe an evanescent, shrinking thought, 
 And send it forth. By passing breezes caught 
 
 Upon its errand swiftly doth it flee 
 
 From home to home, from land to land, to be 
 A guest most gladly welcomed, and full fraught 
 With inspiration from its fountain brought. 
 
 It whispers hope and peace to misery, 
 
 And breathes upon a frost-bound heart to thaw 
 Its icy bands, that it may run and sing. 
 To other souls reviving water bring : 
 
 Then wakes a sleeping fancy to explore 
 
 A magic land it never saw before 
 
 The world within, which there lay slumbering.
 
 THE MINISTRATION OF NATURE. 
 
 THE MINISTRATION OF NATURE. 
 
 The bud is forming long within its sheath, 
 
 Compressed in that small space with matchless skill, 
 Unnoticed by men's careless eyes, until 
 
 In some warm, genial hour, its clenched teeth 
 
 Spring open, that the petals furled beneath 
 
 May spread their wings and flutter at their will, 
 Their growing life with summer sunshine fill. 
 
 And weave themselves into a perfect wreath. 
 
 Then, tossed upon the zephyr's balmy breath, 
 They send their perfume forth upon the air, 
 Content to be so sweet, so pure, and fair, 
 
 To live retired \ to welcome coming death. 
 If but one heart be cheered to see them there. 
 Or one sad soul be saved from dire despair.
 
 LAW. 
 
 LAW. 
 
 A LIGHTHOUSE With its dear, revolving glare, 
 Shines o'er a waste of waters, while the waves 
 Rush up to kiss its feet ; through hollow caves 
 
 Resounding on the surf-tormented air 
 
 Their voices moan. The lifted light doth wear 
 Its crown serenely; it is set too high 
 To share the eager life beneath its eye. 
 
 The way it points, 'tis all it can or dare ! 
 
 "Wild hearts," saith Law, "the haven lies before, 
 Beware the jagged rocks strewn at my base, 
 I warn you from this danger circled place, 
 
 Where grasping wreckers wait upon the shore. 
 
 Go, go from hence, be wise, return no more." 
 Men go, or stay, no tears bedew her face.
 
 LOVE. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 On just and unjust, valley, plain, and hill 
 
 Th' impartial sun looks down : strange power hath he 
 
 To bring to birth life's hidden mystery. 
 He shines, and woods awake ; the mountain rill 
 Runs swiftly; songsters' mating raptures fill 
 
 The forest and the field ; the restless sea 
 
 Reflects his beams and draws breath happily; 
 Intuitive his gentleness and skill. 
 
 "O man," saith Love, "I make rough places plain, 
 
 I rise, and lo ! the desert brings forth flowers, 
 
 And though in torrid hearts the reptile cowers, 
 
 Drain thou the slough and plant it well with grain. 
 
 And where miasma breathed pure joy shall reign ; 
 
 I bring the rainbow with my sunny showers !
 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 LIBERTY. 
 
 Fair Liberty, with gentle, modest mien. 
 
 Comes bearing lilies on her outstretched arms ; 
 She fears no inquisition's secret harms. 
 
 To her pure heart all men are brothers seen. 
 
 The universe to her hath ever been 
 
 A beauteous home. Of wars' abhorred alarms 
 She never hears, for her soft accent calms 
 
 The passions, as though force had never been. 
 
 She sets men free their strife-scarred souls to cure. 
 Breaks all their chains, and bids them learn to move, 
 Then sit at Wisdom's feet, and learn to love. 
 The filthy rags of Licence cease to lure 
 An open soul, grown healthy, strong, and pure. 
 And heavenly songs are sung in every grove.
 
 8 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 
 
 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 
 
 Processions of strange faces passing by 
 
 With smile or scowl look down, then onward glide ; 
 The heavy winged moments cease to fly, 
 
 And darkness groans and creaks beneath their stride. 
 To pierce the shadeless blackness wide eyes try, 
 
 While billows of wild phantasy deride 
 The toiling brain, unable to apply 
 
 A searching test of action, and divide 
 The seeming from the solid. Hours are years 
 
 As dawn delays to place upon the brow 
 
 Her cooling fingers, with their spells of light, 
 So potent to disperse the taunts of night. 
 
 Be patient ; morn must break ; yea, even now 
 Precipitates the gloom and stills thy fears.
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF THE WEDDING RING. 9 
 
 THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE WEDDING RING. 
 
 The world grows nobler as it grows in age ! 
 
 The fetter welded on the bare left arm 
 
 Of captured maid filled her with wild alarm, 
 And made her shrink before her captor's rage. 
 But years roll on, and custom comes to assuage 
 
 The fierceness of the bond with its sure balm ; 
 
 A golden bracelet bodes no thrcat'ning harm, 
 Becomes an honour at a later stage. 
 
 To-day a tiny circlet is enough 
 
 To bind the willing captive to a vow 
 
 Which she, before an altar standing, gave 
 To him she loved ; and though her life be rough, 
 No force is needed to retain her now ; 
 
 She holds her marriage sacred till the grave !
 
 lo OF REBELLION AND SUFFERING. 
 
 OF REBELLION AND SUFFERING. 
 
 "The fire will burn," the tender mother saith, 
 And yet the wilful child its power must try ; 
 Then being burnt, he crieth bitterly 
 
 Against the cruel heat with sobbing breath. 
 
 " O youth, the round of pleasure withereth 
 The heart, and draineth its deep fountains dry ; " 
 Yet all in vain the teacher's warning cry, 
 
 For naught will stay the young save pain or death. 
 
 If children fall, the earth will never shrink. 
 It keeps its place, and holds its even way, 
 For cries, complaints, or tears it cannot stay. 
 The rebels 'gainst its laws stand on the brink 
 Of dire disaster, yet 'twere worse, I think, 
 If for rebellion suffering did not pay.
 
 CORDELIA. II 
 
 CORDELIA. 
 
 O MIRROR of a noble womanhood, 
 
 No fulsome syllable falls from thy lips, 
 The rags of flattery thy strong heart strips 
 
 With loathing from thy speech; and thou hast stood 
 
 For duties quietly fulfilled, for good 
 Unconquered and unconquerable still ; 
 For moral courage and a stalwart will 
 
 To do what true hearts may and honour should. 
 
 Thou seem'st at first to lack the gentleness 
 Of maiden nurtured in a kingly court ; 
 But who may know the battles thou hadst fought 
 
 Against foul spite, masked by a smooth address ! 
 
 And thou art proved by life to be no less 
 Than heroine, in deed, as well as thought.
 
 12 ''SING NOT SAD LAYS." 
 
 "SING NOT SAD LAYS." 
 
 Sing not O poet, sad and mournful lays, 
 And thou musician, play no minor tone ; 
 Then bid the sea forget that she can moan, 
 
 The sun deny dark winter's coming days. 
 
 And let the morning shine without a haze, 
 
 And happy laughter drown each long drawn groan. 
 All hearts their tender memories disown, 
 
 Lest on sad sights men's eyes aghast should gaze. 
 
 It may not be ! The happy need no songs ; 
 But while the world remains, sad eyes will stream, 
 And frozen hearts will hope to catch a beam 
 
 Of human sympathy ; the tried soul longs 
 To know if men are callous as they seem. 
 
 Indifferent to their fellow-creature's wrongs !
 
 THE LIMITATION OF CHOICE. 13 
 
 THE LIMITATION OF CHOICE. 
 
 The tree knows not its office to the air, 
 
 The stream is quite unconscious whence it flows, 
 O'er shallows and o'er rugged rocks it goes 
 
 To ends unknown ; and yet it does not dare 
 
 To wait until its course is clear or fair. 
 
 Against obstructions, through ravines and woes 
 Which bid it rend its locks and roar, it knows 
 
 No rest, no pause, but moves for ever, there ! 
 
 And shall a few poor tears cause man to stay 
 Within the narrow limits of the seen ? 
 Shall he remain content with what hath been, 
 
 Or follow his own tendency's strange way, 
 
 And take his share in struggles of to-day. 
 His ear unto the future listening lean ?
 
 14 THE LIMITATION OF CHOICE. 
 
 THE LIMITATION OF CHOICE. 
 II. 
 
 'Tis idle thus to question if man will 
 
 Move on, as though 'twere given him to choose ; 
 
 His noblest power through sloth he needs must lose, 
 But no man may the gathering water still. 
 If he build walls, surround himself, his skill 
 
 Must find an outlet too, and either use 
 
 His surplus energy, or so abuse 
 His life, that it is tapped some slough to fill. 
 Ah me, I listen long at Nature's breast. 
 
 And wish that she would cease from parables ! 
 
 There is so much her varied storehouse tells 
 For which man seeks with endless, anxious quest, 
 And yet, except to those who love her best, 
 
 Her lips are sealed, and dry her living wells.
 
 THE MARTYR. 
 
 15 
 
 THE MARTYR. 
 
 Thrown to the beasts, a shameful death he dies, 
 
 The crowning horror of a barbarous show; 
 Upon the ground his mangled body lies. 
 
 While sighing night winds o'er him come and go. 
 Deserted he, and dead ! His moans and cries 
 
 Have pierced the pitying heavens at last, and lo ! 
 Through darkest blue of midnight hither hies 
 
 A shining band, to bear him from his woe. 
 
 On swift unwearied pinions he ascends 
 
 From scenes of strife, to regions calm above. 
 
 The beauty of the crown by far transcends 
 The torture of the cross ; peace, like a dove, 
 
 Descends upon him, as he upward wends 
 Enfolded in the radiancy of love.
 
 1 6 LIFE'S JUSTIFICA TION. 
 
 LIFE'S JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 The happy mother, with her first-born laid 
 
 Within her arms, rejoices that it cried; 
 
 And let the world the artist's work deride, 
 The scorn is naught to him, for he has paid 
 His debt ; his thought in glowing hues arrayed 
 
 Is born. Production only can decide 
 
 If man, or tree, to live is justified ; 
 For hfe has either blossomed or decayed. 
 
 The healthy tree must grow and bring forth fruit, 
 Or generous leafy shade, for those who toil ; 
 Alive at every pore, 'twere hard to spoil 
 
 Its heart, for sap is springing from its root. 
 
 Is flowing freely to its farthest shoot. 
 
 And giving strength, decay and death to foil.
 
 FAST AND PRESENT. 1 7 
 
 PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 The Past with fixed features lies behind, 
 No manthng blush endears her visage cold, 
 Her form is cast in monumental mould. 
 
 The hands are still, the sculptured eyes are blind, 
 
 Strange hieroglyphs upon her robes I find 
 And seek some clue to priceless tales, untold 
 Since living youth and beauty round her rolled. 
 
 And loving hearts her secret lore divined. 
 
 Both Past and Future must abide for aye ; 
 The Present wanes, e'en as her name I speak, 
 She waits not till I stoop to kiss her cheek, 
 But slips from my embrace ; and where she lay. 
 The Past, unchangeable, mocks my lips' play 
 And laughs to scorn, my cry for her I seek.
 
 1 8 THE FUTURE. 
 
 THE FUTURE. 
 
 The Future flits before me, while I race 
 To catch her scented garments as she flies. 
 Ah ! she disdains my eager, urgent cries. 
 
 That she should slacken her aerial pace. 
 
 Permit me but one glance at her fair face. 
 She flits and flits ; my ardour never dies, 
 " Did I possess thee, I were good and wise," 
 
 Yet unrelentingly she veils her grace. 
 
 Shall I e'er hold that lovely flutt'ring thing 
 Within my hand, and kiss her bloom away ? 
 Shall she elude me ever, and for aye, 
 
 While I my love-sick praises to her sing ? 
 
 'Twere better so ; no present hour can bring 
 A gift so glorious as the Future may !
 
 OF LIFE. 19 
 
 OF LIFE. 
 
 To work and sleep, to love, to think and learn ! 
 
 How full is life of ever-springing joy. 
 
 Unsullied, purest gold, without alloy, 
 Which every heart e'en here, and now, may earn, 
 If but the fire of earnest effort burn 
 
 All dross away ; and once for all destroy 
 
 Men's vicious pleasures : leave them free to employ 
 Their gifts for good. Sin's punishments are stern ! 
 She blights the blossoms in the bud, and shakes 
 
 The unripe fruit from the impoverished tree ; 
 
 She seems far gayer than calm purity, 
 But 'tis a painted mask which loosely quakes 
 
 Upon a grinning skull. The pure are free 
 
 To learn through countless years what life may be !
 
 20 THE REFORMER. 
 
 THE REFORMER. 
 (three sonnets.) 
 
 I. 
 
 He stands proclaiming a gigantic scheme 
 Of world reform ; the naked shall be clad, 
 The hungry fed, the darkest lives made glad ; 
 
 From vice and poverty he will redeem 
 
 The thousands on whose dreary lives no gleam 
 Of hope has fallen. Worldlings call him mad ; 
 Yet he gives up the ease he might have had, 
 
 For this divine, self-sacrificing dream. 
 
 With little help he works, yet never quails 
 Before the scoffing words opponents use; 
 If they their power so harmfully abuse, 
 'Twere worse, he thinks, to be the man who rails. 
 Than he who tries to do his best and fails ; 
 
 If but the conscience naught can find to accuse.
 
 TRIED BY S UCCESS. 2 1 
 
 TRIED BY SUCCESS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Beyond his wildest hope his cause succeeds, 
 And autocratic grow his stern commands. 
 At one shrine only men may clasp their hands ; 
 
 He shows no pity for outsiders' needs, 
 
 No longer for the world his proud heart bleeds ; 
 He thinks but seldom of the soul's demands, 
 His forces 'gainst the other sects he bands. 
 
 Defender of one more, of many creeds. 
 
 The holy fire that flamed within his breast 
 Is smould'ring now beneath a load of state ; 
 
 His sounding words and high uplifted crest 
 Are signs ironical of ruthless fate, 
 
 Which, by success, has put him to the test ; 
 He loved a world, yet doth his brother hate !
 
 22 THE SACRAMENT OF FAILURE. 
 
 THE SACRAMENT OF FAILURE. 
 
 III. 
 
 An aged man, in prison and alone, 
 
 Reviews the past. He sees himself again 
 As once he stood, a youth beneath the rain 
 
 Of ignominy borne without a moan : 
 
 And then, the tender heart became as stone, 
 He sees the man inflicting the same pain 
 Youth had endured, yet had endured in vain, 
 
 Since out of suffering pity had not grown ! 
 
 And now, in failure's dark and searching hour, 
 He sees himself as he had hoped to be, 
 And as he is ! O dread eternity 
 Of such a moment ! Shall the sad heart flower, 
 Or like a craven, at the crisis cower ? 
 He blossoms into true humility!
 
 OF DUTY. 23 
 
 OF DUTV. 
 
 Duty, — men say, — though hard, is always clear, 
 And he who runs may see her rugged road, 
 Though oft necessity alone can goad 
 
 His bleeding feet to tread the path ; so sheer 
 
 It is, so difficult, so dull and drear. 
 Yet many ways lead out into the dark, 
 And not one steady light emits a spark 
 
 To say, "This is the way, be of good cheer.' 
 
 O God, how shall men know what they should do, 
 When diverse duties lie before, behind. 
 
 When rousing voices cry, "Pursue, pursue 
 The stony upward track the truth to find,"' 
 
 And wailing words of weaklings echo through 
 The keen hill air, '• To leave us were unkind.''
 
 24 THE SLEEP OF SORROW. 
 
 THE SLEEP OF SORROW. 
 
 Strange, undefined, unmeasured land of Sleep, 
 
 Where facts and fancies fall in finest spray, 
 
 Dashed from the ebbing tide of waking day ; 
 Where past and present wondrous revels keep, 
 And spectral shadows of the future creep 
 
 Behind the veil of sense, to fade away ; 
 
 Where blackest robes of grief turn neutral grey, 
 And swollen eyes forget awhile to weep. 
 The bounds of time and space are all destroyed, 
 
 And that which is, is as it ne'er had been; 
 
 The non-existent treads there, plainly seen. 
 While stripped of flesh, the spirit upward buoyed, 
 Trembles to find its wing beat a vast void, 
 
 And falling, — falling, — wakes to anguish keen.
 
 EVOLUTION. 25 
 
 EVOLUTION. 
 
 Great Nature seems a Fury blind with rage, 
 Devoid of plan, the slave of any chance, 
 To those who judge her with a passing glance, 
 
 Nor ever care to scan her wondrous page. 
 
 They let the outward show their thoughts engage, 
 And watch the whirling dust clouds wildly dance, 
 But never note the long and slow advance 
 
 Through all the centuries ; how stage by stage 
 
 The lower into higher forms evolve, 
 
 The monstrous to the human ever tend, 
 
 And rage declines, while reason comes to bend 
 
 The stubborn will of men, till they resolve 
 To leave to brutes the coarser life, and wend 
 Upon the path of progress to the end !
 
 26 OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 The life which pulsing throbs and thrills through me 
 Is as intense in you, and permeates 
 The universe : all sad and happy states 
 
 Of toiling, erring, hoping men, agree 
 
 In this one thing ; each in himself doth see 
 The centre of the world, and watching, waits 
 Coming events, as though all God creates 
 
 Were formed for his content or misery. 
 
 Could man but realise that each man's heart 
 Is sensitive to sound and sight as this 
 
 Which beats in his own breast, how great a part 
 Of suffering were spared, or changed to bliss, 
 
 Through gentle tones and touches, from which start 
 More subtile raptures than from lover's kiss.
 
 PRE PARA TJON IS INSPIRA TION. 2 7 
 
 PREPARATION IS INSPIRATION. 
 
 Inspired men and women seem to be 
 
 Those delicately poised and tutored minds 
 The Spirit of an age most surely finds 
 
 Prepared the trend of human thought to see ; 
 
 Who, from dogmatic prejudice quite free, 
 Are sensitive to each fresh impulse brought 
 Within the vortex of revolving thought ; 
 
 Who work, they know not why, yet steadily. 
 
 These are the plates which ever ready stand, 
 And only need the sun and focussed range 
 To photograph the shadowy forms and strange. 
 
 Already shaping 'neath the Future's hand, 
 
 In her dim workshops, where she doth arrange 
 
 What shall come next, in sea or air, on land.
 
 28 " WHA T DOST THOU KNO JV? " 
 
 "WHAT DOST THOU KNOW?" 
 
 What dost thou know, O sage, at thy life's close, 
 Thou, who hast spent thy Hfe in arduous quest 
 Of all that knowledge yields of purest, best, 
 
 Regardless of thy private pains or woes ? 
 
 What hast thou heard, O poet, list'ning long 
 To Nature and the beating human heart, 
 So ready to yield secrets to thy art, 
 
 And give thee ore, that thou raayst weld to song ? 
 
 What have ye learned, ye gifted men and true. 
 Who by so many avenues have sought 
 To thread the maze of labyrinthine thought, 
 
 That feebler feet may safely follow through ? 
 
 With one accord they say, " We saw a light 
 
 That fringed the garments of the Infinite."
 
 OF TRUE LOVE. 29 
 
 OF TRUE LOVE. 
 
 In that it forces men to do their best, 
 True human love is like the love of God, 
 And will not spare the stinging of the rod. 
 
 If that be needed, to urge on the quest 
 
 Of the divine idea dimly impressed 
 Upon the inmost essence of the soul ; 
 And till the loved one find the glorious whole, 
 
 Pure love prevents it sinking into rest. 
 
 If then thy love bid thee with syren voice 
 Content thyself among the herd to stay, 
 Arouse at once, and put that love away 
 
 While there is time to make a nobler choice. 
 
 Then shall the powers of good o'er thee rejoice, 
 And cry from star to star, " He will obey."
 
 OF SILENCE AND SPEECH. 
 
 OF SILENCE AND SPEECH. 
 
 Silence — 'tis said — is golden ! yet it seems 
 To some the parched gold of desert sands, 
 Dreary and desolate, where mirage stands 
 
 Inuring the thirsty traveller, who deems 
 
 That he shall drink, for he afar caught gleams 
 As of a shining lake beneath the sun, 
 Yet sadly is deceived, for he hath won 
 
 But phantoms bodiless as are his dreams. 
 
 Ah, when an eager, longing, lonely soul 
 Athirst for sympathy, companionship. 
 
 Meets Silence, 'tis more cruel than the grave ! 
 But Speech, like summer thunder's passing roll, 
 Relieves the air and cools the fevered lip. 
 
 While its soft showers the drooping flowers lave.
 
 THE JO Y OF PR OD UCTION. 3 1 
 
 THE JOY OF PRODUCTION. 
 I. 
 
 Doth earth delight to clothe herself in green, 
 And is the quiv'ring of the summer flowers 
 The artist's rapture, as his growing powers 
 
 Evolve the image which his soul hath seen ? 
 
 Do birds their thrilling inspiration glean 
 
 From sky or sea, from air, or earth's fair bowers, 
 And are they sad when angry Nature lowers 
 
 With frowning brow, to dull their lustrous sheen ? 
 
 I know not. Nature keeps her secrets well. 
 But man with his mysterious gift of speech. 
 Inspired himself, his fellow-men can teach; 
 And diving deeply, wondrous tales can tell 
 Of those strange yearnings no success can quel), 
 Of fairest forms that flit beyond his reach.
 
 3 2 THE JO Y OF PR OD UCTION. 
 
 THE JOY OF PRODUCTION. 
 
 II. 
 
 O HAPPY children, unto whom 'tis given 
 
 Fair dreams to shape with chisel, pen, or brush ! 
 E'en thunderbolts are powerless to crush 
 
 The man who knows why gloomy skies are riven ; 
 
 To pierce the storm-cloud's secret he has striven. 
 To understand life's ripples and its rush, 
 The human heart, the rose's beauteous blush, 
 
 And how the soul from all its past is shriven. 
 
 Exhilarating 'tis the pen to poise, 
 
 And linger just a moment — then begin 
 A harvest of ungarnered thought to win. 
 
 Or break within a prism that destroys 
 Invisibility, the common air, 
 Till common things celestial colours wear.
 
 THE WORLD WITHIN. t^^ 
 
 THE WORLD WITHIN. 
 
 A WORLD within a world are such as we, 
 
 With regions frozen fast and icy cold ; 
 And torrid zones of wildest phantasy, 
 
 Where unguessed possibilities unfold 
 Beneath the noonday sun's intensity; 
 
 And unexplored continents, where gold 
 Lies massed in virgin richness, though none see 
 
 The hidden treasure. Would that men were bold 
 To search themselves and say what there they find, 
 
 Undaunted by the forests dark and dense, 
 The undergrowth entangled of the mind : 
 
 Then seek the springs of thought, and learn from 
 whence 
 The aspirations and the passions wind 
 
 Into the trodden realm of sight and sense.
 
 34 SICK UNTO DEATH. 
 
 SICK UNTO DEATH. 
 
 The blinds are drawn, shut out the garish day, 
 Upon its couch a faihng body lies, 
 While hour by hour its power of living dies ; 
 
 Attenuate through gradual decay, 
 
 'Tis falling fast from healing force away. 
 A slower, smaller stream its need supplies, 
 Till life lays down its sceptre with deep sighs 
 
 And on the face falls pallor, ashen grey. 
 
 Ah, shall a soul wound-weakened to its core 
 By long intrusion of unholy life. 
 Or by neglect's two-edged, remorseless knife 
 
 Waste all its essence on the earth's mud floor, 
 Grow weaker and yet weaker till all strife 
 
 Is ended, and it sleeps to wake no more ?
 
 OF ACTl VE RE SIGN A TION. 3 5 
 
 OF ACTIVE RESIGNATION. 
 
 Fear not the face of thy bemoaned fate, 
 
 Declare, " Thus art thou ; I accept thee now," 
 And then, no peevish fretfulness allow. 
 
 O'er many sorrows cease to meditate, 
 
 And do thy best to bear what thou didst hate. 
 Behold ! the wrinkles on thy careworn brow 
 Depart, serenity surrounds the vow. 
 
 And calm descends upon the long debate. 
 
 Thy nature to thy circumstance unfit 
 
 Hath sorely frayed thy flesh ; resistance flings 
 Corroding fetters o'er thy feeble wings. 
 
 But ah, the fire of fervent patience lit 
 May fuse encircling or opposing things. 
 And shape them to the mould the spirit brings.
 
 36 UNCONSCIO US INFL UENCE. 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE. 
 
 The ripples come across the bay, and break 
 
 In quick succession on the pebbly shore ; 
 How faint th' impression each swift wave doth make 
 
 Before it falls into the flood once more. 
 It leaves perchance, a shell or stone more worn, 
 
 More polished or thrown forward into sight, 
 'Tis pleasant to the eye, but scarcely born 
 
 Ere it retreats, as flies a flash of light. 
 Wave follows wave, as fresh thought follows thought. 
 
 As life comes speeding after fading life ; 
 How strange that each is with a purpose fraught, 
 
 Though quite unconsciously it aids the strife 
 Of that great power which grinds rough places smooth, 
 Evolves from passion, love, so strong to soothe.
 
 THE CELIBATE. 
 
 37 
 
 THE CELIBATE. 
 
 From childhood set apart, he has essayed 
 With downcast eyes to avoid forbidden fruit ; 
 Yet gazing steadily at chiselled flute 
 
 Of massive pillar, a familiar shade 
 
 The presence of th' avoided one betrayed. 
 
 His quivering eyelids, though his lips are mute, 
 Bid him beware ; for through the pulses shoot 
 
 Of tonsured priest, the love of man for maid ! 
 
 Full many are there who have loved in vain, 
 And for love's sake have lived their lives alone ; 
 But he, — and at the thought his heart will groan, - 
 
 Has been devoted to this scourging pain. 
 
 Enforced obedience finds it hard to gain 
 The calmness of a choice which is its own.
 
 38 OF MATURITY AND GROWTH. 
 
 OF MATURITY AND GROWTH. 
 
 The trees have clothed themselves most sumptuously 
 In garments green of every varying shade ; 
 The blossoms have adorned the wooded glade, 
 
 The forming cones upon the boughs we see ; 
 
 And now at this late hour, how fair to me 
 
 Are those fresh shoots upon each tip displayed, 
 Against the summer's dark'ning foliage laid. 
 
 Like fingers pointing to futurity. 
 
 Their growth gives promise for the coming spring 
 Of ampler breadths of shade and wider bowers ; 
 
 And from matured lips fresh thoughts should ring 
 The advent of enlarged and freer powers ; 
 
 For though the roots to earth must ever cling, 
 The growing point into the ether towers.
 
 THE SPECTRE OF WANT. 
 
 39 
 
 THE SPECTRE OF WANT. 
 
 A DREADFUL shape is that of pallid Want ! 
 
 It paralyses every noblest hope, 
 
 And narrows to the narrowest this life's scope ; 
 Its famine-stricken limbs it seems to flaunt 
 Before the eyes of plenty ; no fears daunt 
 
 Its clutching fingers ; quickly down the slope 
 
 Of beggary to vice, e'en to the rope 
 It strides, and grows each day more wild and gaunt. 
 This haggard spectre knocking at the door 
 
 Brings in its train the loss of home and friends, 
 The death of effort, beauty forced to flee. 
 Fair honour dulled ; for squalor evermore 
 
 Means loss of shame ; its scanty rags it rends, 
 And sinks at worst beneath humanity.
 
 40 NATURE. 
 
 NATURE. 
 
 Fair Nature smiles for happy youth, and scolds 
 The fretful, frowning at them through their tears ; 
 To timid souls most heartless she appears, 
 
 Though braver children in her arms she folds, 
 
 And makes them happy on the breezy wolds, 
 In sheltered gardens, where the good ship steers 
 Its path across the sea. Pure minds she cheers, 
 
 And shapeless thoughts to lovely patterns moulds. 
 
 A goddess she, who plays her strenuous part 
 Without reluctance on the human heart ; 
 To each law-breaker gives she that is his, 
 And takes no heed of idle sophistries ; 
 She will not pause for end of long debates. 
 But heals her lovers, while her foes she hates !
 
 JOHN HANCOCK. 41 
 
 JOHN HANCOCK. 
 
 (^Naturalist. Died wih October, 1890.) 
 
 O Nature, he is dead who loved thee well, 
 He leaves thy haunts, to lie upon thy breast, 
 Thy swift-winged children guard his well-earned 
 rest, 
 
 And chant Spring's birth songs and dark Winter's knell, 
 
 Unheeded by the ears which once could tell 
 
 This note from that, and what the songster's quest, 
 His plumage and his habits, where his nest, 
 
 On heathy hill-side or in wooded dell. 
 
 A man designed by Nature for herself. 
 With earnest purpose and contempt for pelf; 
 With patient brain to search her ways abstruse. 
 And clever hands grown skilful by long use ; 
 Who heeded not the years already flown 
 Devoted to her cause, and hers alone !
 
 SONNETS OF THE CITY. 
 
 THE OLD CASTLE. 
 
 Thou dark and rugged relic of fierce days, 
 If it be true that every surging sound 
 Doth leave its trace, in striking and rebound, 
 
 How strangely pictured to a piercing gaze 
 
 Were thy grim masonry : what stirring lays 
 Of border strife, of town-bred tumult found 
 Upon thy walls would on the heart resound, 
 
 All mingled with the tones of prayer and praise ; 
 
 For Sabbath bells and holy anthems ring 
 Around thy battlements in war or peace ; 
 
 Defacing stains of toil upon thee cling, 
 And at thy feet the waves of life increase, 
 
 As one by one the generations sing 
 
 Their songs of love and hate, which never cease !
 
 SONAETS OF THE CITY. 43 
 
 II. 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 A LANDMARK thou ; thy lantern sings above 
 The crowded thoroughfares that hem thee in, 
 A song of steadfast peace all men may win 
 
 By consecrating earthly life and love 
 
 To that great Power in which men live and move, 
 Resistless in its hatred of all sin, 
 And merciful to those who truly win 
 
 Their freedom from a narrow, selfish groove. 
 
 Thy shadow falls upon the busy mart, 
 
 Reminding men of life's true aim and cause ; 
 
 Thy stones are annals of the Northern heart, 
 Its history is gathered round thy doors ; 
 
 And thou a sacred sanction canst impart 
 To joy or sorrow, when the heart adores.
 
 44 SONNETS OF THE CITY. 
 
 III. 
 THE CENTRAL STATION. 
 
 The pulsing life blood of the City pours 
 
 Through thee its throbbing heart, unceasingly ; 
 Along thy gleaming ways the current roars 
 
 In mingled tragedy and comedy. 
 Strange scenes from stranger lives, upon thy floors 
 
 Without rehearsal acted, thou dost see; 
 And sad farewells of those who leave our shores, 
 
 Bright marriage joy, and death's dark pageantry. 
 
 A link thou seemest in the lengthening chain 
 Which binds this land to that, and man to man, 
 
 Until on one great Brotherhood no stain 
 Of war remains, where once it wildly ran 
 
 A sleuth-hound, bringing ravage in its train. 
 Free intercourse like thine is hatred's ban !
 
 SONAETS OF THE CITY. 45 
 
 THE CHURCH OF THE DIVINE UNITY. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A MONUMENT art thou, of that long roll 
 
 Of earnest men who fought on freedom's side ; 
 Who strove to save th' aspiring, yearning soul 
 
 From prisons of the past, and open wide 
 The Infinite ; that to its long-closed goal — 
 
 The bosom of the Father — o'er the tide 
 Of raging billows which around it roll. 
 
 The burthened heart ma}' fly, and there abide ! 
 
 A protest in the past ; for Faith to-day 
 
 Thou standest firmly, full of fresh fire caught 
 From ever-growing, ever-widening thought, 
 Which onward, upward, cleaves its glorious way, 
 And will not, dare not, in the partial stay, 
 
 Constrained to find the One each soul hath sought.
 
 46 SONNETS OF THE CITY. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
 Thou latest fledgling of fair Learning's brood, 
 Thy ample chambers echo 'neath the tread 
 Of those who had, in olden time been led 
 
 Into the ghastly field of war, where stood 
 
 The jealous barons, careless that the food 
 
 Of wailing women, and weak children's bread, 
 Depended on the men whom they have said 
 
 Shall fight unto the death ! Not thine this mood ; 
 
 Thou callest men to learn the arts of peace, 
 Hast gathered on thy shelves a mighty store 
 Of living words, which fell from men of yore. 
 
 The seed corn of a harvest, to increase 
 
 Through coming years, a thousand-fold and more, 
 Until all bloodshed and fierce strife shall cease !
 
 SONNETS OF THE CITY. 47 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE CEMETERY. 
 
 Within thy grassy spaces, lowly laid 
 
 Our loved ones lie ; each grave's pathetic face 
 Sun-kissed, acquires a silent, sadd'ning grace 
 
 With velvet moss or gorgeous blooms arrayed. 
 
 The signs of wealth or poverty displayed 
 
 Are naught to those who wing through realms of 
 
 space, 
 And know no rest save in the close embrace 
 
 Of Him to whom aspiring spirits prayed. 
 
 E'en here alas, man's narrow love is found ; 
 But list, God laughs. His forces all deride 
 These false divisions of mere place and pride. 
 In hallowed or unconsecrated mound 
 The useless body lies beneath the ground ; 
 No pall or pomp, th' immortal soul can hide.
 
 48 SONNETS OF THE CITY. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE REV. FRANK WALTERS. 
 
 O MAN of God ! armed with a tongue of flame, 
 
 To kindle in the soul a holy fire 
 
 Of hopeful courage, and of pure desire 
 To do the work of Him from whom it came : 
 Thou bidst men cease from deeds and thoughts of 
 shame, 
 
 And shake from off their feet earth's clinging mire, 
 
 Unto a nobler, better life aspire, 
 The life of selfless love and stainless fame. 
 
 The Universe the home of the Most High, 
 The earth a temple when the heart is pure, 
 Eternal life a promise, strong and sure. 
 And God, a Father to His children nigh. 
 Who hears the wand'rer's first repentant cry ; 
 
 These are thy message, — men's sick souls to cure.
 
 NATURAL AND SUPERNATURAL. 49 
 
 NATURAL AND SUPERNATURAL. 
 
 Familiar scenes and faces rouse no fear, 
 
 And that which all men say gives no distress, 
 The well-worn garments lose uneasiness, 
 
 And daily rounds quite natural appear. 
 
 Within a silenced room incline your ear 
 To voices from afar ; then pause to guess 
 The horror which had fallen for far less 
 
 On those who knew not whence came sounds so clear. 
 
 The unfamiliar supernatural seems, 
 
 Strange, weird, and painful to the shrinking sight, 
 It haunts the darkness of the gaping night 
 
 With vague, ungrasped, and unaccustomed dreams. 
 
 But on the shudd'ring world a new sun beams, 
 For Law and Love, on every place pour light !
 
 OF TWILIGHT AND MELANCHOL Y. 
 
 OF TWILIGHT AND MELANCHOLY. 
 
 An hour there is between the day and dark, 
 When summer fohage and the fairest flowers 
 Look grey and sombre as the evening lowers, 
 
 Until a scintillating, quiv'ring spark 
 
 Shines out o'er undulating hills, to mark 
 The passing of the gloaming into night. 
 A peaceful time it seems, though never bright, 
 
 The plaintive nightingale supplants the lark ; 
 
 And moments come to every heart when joy 
 Gives place to melancholy's quiet thought, 
 When past and present to one hue are brought. 
 
 And jokes or merry quips are apt to cloy, 
 
 For in life's shadows memory finds employ, 
 
 While with deep meaning spoken words are fraught.
 
 IS LOVE ETERNAL? 51 
 
 IS LOVE ETERNAL? 
 
 Doth aught last through the long eternity 
 
 Of progress which awaits a conscious soul ? 
 
 Or as it nears its final, long-sought goal 
 Do lesser hopes entirely cease to be ? 
 Doth Love remain when all else fades away, 
 
 Inextricably woven into life, 
 
 Steadfast and strong when death and change are rife, 
 The joy of future as of present day ? 
 
 Why ask such questions, O thou restless heart. 
 Is Love of clay to perish on the earth ? 
 The passions of the flesh must all expire 
 When dust returns unto its native mire ; 
 But selfless Love may dare the dangerous birth, — 
 Called death ;— for Love is man's most God-like part.
 
 52 IN CLO UDLAND. 
 
 IN CLOUDLAND. 
 
 Across the pearly arch of eve outspread 
 A pair of Seraph wings were Hfted high, 
 No form between them could my eyes descry, 
 
 No face with friendly glance ; and soon the red 
 
 Of sunset caught the snowy plumes, and shed 
 From tip to tip a rosy hue, to die 
 In burning blushes o'er the western sky. 
 
 " A Seraph seeks the earth to-night," I said, 
 
 " Who shall be counted fit his face to see, 
 
 Or feel his hand withdraw from wrath and wrong ? " 
 
 They laughed, — the others, — gaily mocking me, 
 But trees took up a soft, angelic song, 
 And bending, rustling, murmured it along 
 
 The gleaming river, gliding to the sea.
 
 A DA WNING FAITH. 
 
 53 
 
 A DAWNING FAITH. 
 
 The ancient faiths are crumbling to decay, 
 Each saint is tott'ring in his time-worn niche \ 
 The seer, no longer branded as a witch, 
 
 Proclaims her oracles by light of day ; 
 
 And rash, irrev'rent children rudely play 
 
 With ball, and cross, and crescent; all of which 
 Are sacred symbols given to enrich 
 
 The inner life, to teach men how to pray. 
 
 The outward forms are dying ; but incline 
 Your ear unto the living, throbbing hearts 
 Of toiling men in crowded, busy marts. 
 
 You gaze astonished, for they answer thine ! 
 
 ^Vhat is that pulse, so human, yet divine ? 
 
 The sense that all men of One Life are parts.
 
 54 PRAISE IS BLAME! 
 
 PRAISE IS BLAME! 
 
 The dewdrop forms its perfect glitt'ring sphere, 
 And nestles in the hollow of a flower, 
 Content to lie there hidden the brief hour 
 
 Of its short life ; nor does it e'er appear 
 
 To seek applause of fellow dewdrops near, 
 For each fair orb is gifted with full power 
 To form itself, and none need darkly glower 
 
 To see the others pure and round and clear. 
 
 And man is only praised because the lame, 
 The deaf, the dull, the coarse are of his kind, 
 Because endued with thinking, choosing mind, 
 
 A few shine out against the many's shame. 
 
 So sunny praise involves its shadow, blame ; 
 For why laud sight, if never man were blind ?
 
 THE TRANSFORMATION OF PAIN. 55 
 
 THE TRANSFORMATION OF PAIN. 
 
 Gaunt Pain, with sunken cheeks and closed lips, 
 Stands weeping, groaning, rending her scant locks 
 A writhing world with her wild eyes she mocks, 
 
 Exuberance of thoughtless youth she nips. 
 
 And flaws the cup the holy martyr sips. 
 The feeble body quails beneath her shocks. 
 And backward, forward, seeking ease it rocks, 
 
 In vain attempt to avoid her scourging whips. 
 
 But see, a miracle ! Her lips long sealed 
 At last are opening into tender speech ; 
 Her tears of sympathy begin to teach 
 A sense of human oneness, which hath healed 
 Full many a scar beneath its shelt'ring shield ; 
 And Pain, transformed to Pity, smiles for each.
 
 56 A UTUMN. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 The Autumn leaves are falling, falling fast, 
 And gusty winds are driving them away 
 In stormy earnest, or in sportive play, 
 
 Until they find a sheltered nook at last 
 
 Where round the mould'ring heaps decay may cast 
 Her blighting arms, to press them day by day 
 More closely to her breast, and whisp'ring say, 
 
 "All dead ! their fleeting hours of life are past." 
 
 But are they dead? Their loveliness 'tis true, 
 
 Their shapes and hues are gone for aye ; but look 
 How Mother Earth absorbs them to renew 
 Her energies, from which their life they drew. 
 Why call it Death to fall back whence they took 
 Their being? "Changed, not dead," says Nature's 
 book.
 
 OF CHILDREN. 57 
 
 OF CHILDREN. 
 
 Into a solemn household came a child, 
 
 And all was changed by his soft, chubby hand, 
 Which ruled with rod of iron ; his demand 
 
 For love and care, for merry play, beguiled 
 
 The stately mother till she gaily smiled. 
 The nursery floor became a magic land, 
 Where a promiscuous, ever-changing band 
 
 Of angels, beasts, and fairies wandered wild. 
 
 Behind that sunshine a dark shadow lurks, 
 For there are little ones whose unshod feet 
 Know nothing softer than the stony street. 
 
 The pen to picture their condition shirks ! 
 What can be done, O Mothers, to make sweet 
 The lives of children whom men's curses greet ?
 
 58 OF FAILURE AND PROGRESS. 
 
 OF FAILURE AND PROGRESS. 
 
 I CHOSE the rose, and laid it on my breast ; 
 Its beauty filled my senses with delight, 
 But e'en before the advent of the night 
 
 Its withered petals, no more gaily dressed 
 
 Fell one by one ; nor dared I lift them, lest 
 The others followed. Did I choose aright 
 To take that scented blossom frail and bright ? 
 
 Was that the noblest choice, the purest, best ? 
 
 Beside the flower of passion, sweet and gay, 
 The scentless everlasting raised its head : 
 
 But I, a mortal, chose the passing day, 
 Nor looked beyond the portal of the dead. 
 
 Shall I for ever choose the lower way, 
 Or taught by failure, climb where it hath led ?
 
 LOVING AND BELOVED. 59 
 
 LOVING AND BELOVED. 
 
 To love is hard, when love is unreturned, 
 
 But being loved is far, far harder yet. 
 
 Therein lies weariness and vain regret 
 For all that might have been, had true love burned 
 With equal flame in either heart, and earned 
 
 The double power of those twin currents set 
 
 In one broad channel. Now the stones scarce wet, 
 The stream is by the least obstruction turned. 
 
 O God 1 how shall both hearts be satisfied 
 In time to come, if this can only know 
 A bliss which from that other heart shall flow ? 
 
 Yet in that heart no bond is ratified, 
 
 Nor doth it long for love, more than the snow 
 Doth long for sunshine which shall make it flow !
 
 6o THE EARTH. 
 
 THE EARTH. 
 
 Consider well the earth, its light and shade, 
 The varied beauties everywhere displayed ; 
 The wild luxuriance of its tropic clime, 
 With wealth of blossoms and deep beds of slime \ 
 The temperate zone, in verdant green arrayed, 
 With starry hosts upon its meadows laid ; 
 
 The rugged mountains, lifting crowns sublime 
 Of hoary locks which know no summer time ; 
 The frozen circle, where the ground dismayed 
 Forgets to bloom, so keen is winter's raid ; 
 The mystic ocean, whose deep currents chime 
 Against great hills no foot of man may climb. 
 Shall God disdain the glories He hath made, 
 Who every atom in His balance weighed ?
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 6i 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Impartial art thou, as the teeming earth, 
 
 On which swarm creatures vile and gay and good ; 
 With sympathy o'erflowing, scorn, or mirth 
 
 Men's heart's stripped bare before thy glances stood. 
 The cup of life with bold hand thou dost fill, 
 
 Nor dost withhold the fatal poisoned drop 
 Which poured therein, all love and peace must kill, 
 
 And yet far short of license dost thou stop ; 
 For on himself the murderer's cruel knife 
 
 Relentlessly returns to rend his flesh, 
 And where vile lust and treachery are rife. 
 
 The traitors fall at last in their own mesh. 
 Robustest son of a most glorious age, 
 No feeble palliations stain thy page.
 
 62 JOHN MILTON. 
 
 JOHN MILTON. 
 
 Set high above the misty realms of sight, 
 
 Thou hast created a Titanic sphere ; 
 Hast darkened the dark shadows of the night, 
 
 And deepened the deep hells of abject fear ; 
 And yet 'tis strange, thy Satan, this world's blight. 
 
 Is grandly human too when he comes near ; 
 He will not bow before a tyrant's might. 
 
 And reigns in Hell to keep his conscience clear ! 
 
 O Poet, by thy blindness set apart 
 
 To things impalpable thou drawest nigh ; 
 Such fame as thine no mere success can buy, 
 
 It is the load-star of the struggling heart 
 That longs above all petty strife to fly. 
 And must its work accomplish ere it die.
 
 R OBER T BRO WNING. 63 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 Unmusical, grotesque sometimes thy lays, 
 
 And yet how deeply dost thou probe the heart ! 
 
 Thou lay'st thy finger on its inmost smart 
 With healing magic ; and the soul arrays 
 Reformed forces in more subtile ways, 
 
 Upon more elemental, stronger lines ; 
 
 Deep down into life's less exhausted mines 
 Thou darest, winning ore for future days. 
 
 Thy thoughts now saturate the minds of those 
 
 Who read them not : from thy deep well they drink, 
 Although of thee they never pause to think, 
 
 Nay, deem themselves perchance, thy bitter foes ! 
 
 Upon the past and future thy hands close, 
 And that to this most firmly dost thou link.
 
 64 THE RISING TIDE. 
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 
 
 A SURGING sea there is within the breast, 
 
 Which ebbs and flows, and breaks upon the shore 
 Of silence. Ah, the coming waves implore 
 
 To understand their meaning, and find rest. 
 
 The frothing foam upon th' uplifted crest 
 
 Which hurries on to break with thundrous roar 
 Upon the shining strand, and fall once more 
 
 Into the ocean, puts life to the test. 
 
 And if it gain one inch as yet unwon, 
 Or learn one secret buried in the sand. 
 
 Its life-work it has nobly, truly done, 
 
 And paved the way for the advancing band 
 
 Which shall accomplish that which it begun ; 
 Till one by one, life's secrets open stand.
 
 A MAGNETIC PERSONALITY. 65 
 
 A MAGNETIC PERSONALITY. 
 
 He enters ; small frivolities decline, 
 
 A healthy movement, as of mountain breeze, 
 Arouses slumb'ring earnestness, and frees 
 
 The guarded tongue to utter thoughts divine. 
 
 His gestures grant unspoken prayers ; like wine 
 His flowing words give strength, and his decrees 
 Are forming now the future that he sees ; 
 
 Through clouds and darkness day begins to shine. 
 
 He laughs ; despairing souls feel loads of woe 
 Mysteriously removed ; the atmosphere 
 
 Is cleansed of cobwebs, men aspire to go 
 On herculean tasks forgetting fear, 
 Contemptible excuses disappear, 
 
 For all desire the noblest things they know.
 
 66 THE GIFT OF HOPE. 
 
 THE GIFT OF HOPE. 
 
 The orphaned maiden dreams that she shall wed, 
 
 That solitude and sorrow both shall cease. 
 Th' unhappy wife is fain to lay her head 
 
 Within the grave ; beyond it she sees peace. 
 And weeping autumn, old and withered, 
 
 Feels at her heart a promise of increase, 
 While shrouded winter stirs in her cold bed. 
 
 And longs of life to try another lease. 
 
 The greatest gift that e'er to man was sent 
 
 Is Hope ! She looks beyond the present hour, 
 Above the thorn gives promise of the flower. 
 She sees the raging storm-clouds' fury spent. 
 And whispers that these pressing woes are meant 
 To prove the spirit, and evolve its power.
 
 THE POINT OF VIEW. 67 
 
 THE POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 Seen from afar the Master's canvas shows 
 
 A blurred and formless stretch of dun grey sky ; 
 No message there from Nature for the woes 
 
 Of sorrowing men, who pass it dully by. 
 But draw thou nearer ; see where daylight grows ; 
 
 And nearer still, till here and there an eye 
 Peers from the flakelets forming into rows. 
 
 With outspread pinions, lifted as to fly. 
 Then stand awhile with fix^d, steadfast gaze ; 
 
 Ah, now the clouds take shape, and cherub heads 
 With parted lips sweet hallelujahs raise. 
 Their lifted faces catch celestial rays 
 
 Descending from above ; the heavenly weds 
 The earthly, nnd transforms thy anxious days.
 
 68 SUBTERRANEAN CURRENTS. 
 
 SUBTERRANEAN CURRENTS. 
 
 A MIGHTY river runs beneath the ground 
 Unguessed, until in some abysmal deep 
 It leaves its hidden^V-d perforce, to sweep 
 
 'Twixt horrent rocks, which echoing, resound 
 
 With fearful roar to every leap and bound. 
 The faintest twilight falls upon its face, 
 Where blindly rushing, raging with wild grace. 
 
 It plunges back to darkness most profound. 
 
 And are there none, of all our humankind, 
 With subterranean currents running fast, 
 
 Which flow with harmless swiftness till they reach 
 The narrow cleft of unaccustomed speech ? 
 Into that seething channel forced at last. 
 The fierceness of the torrent who shall bind ?
 
 TO EACH, HIS OWN. 69 
 
 TO EACH, HIS OWN. 
 
 " Why must I stay upon the dreary ground 
 
 And suffer thus ? 'Tis fairer up above, 
 In those clear spaces where no fogs are found, 
 
 And nearer to the sky light cloudlets rove ; 
 Where gloomy shadows fall not, and around 
 
 The arch of blue an ample roof must prove ; 
 Where steady lights in darkest night abound, 
 
 And life is purity and peace and love." 
 
 Thy beings law demands that thou shalt stay 
 Upon the earth while thou art still of clay ; 
 Like gravitates to like, and thou mayst choose 
 The noblest or the worst of earth to lose ; 
 And when thou'rt fit for fairer realms than this, 
 Translated shalt thou be to higher bliss.
 
 70 IS THERE , ANY END ? 
 
 IS THERE ANY END? 
 
 The tottering infant looks across the floor, 
 
 His one desire to reach the arms he sees 
 Outstretched to welcome him : he fails once more, 
 
 Yet nothing save to walk upright will please 
 Th' ambitious child. Within an open door 
 
 There stands a youth, who envies every breeze 
 That flits at will to some far distant shore, 
 
 And till he follow he can know no ease. 
 An aged man looks onward still, and longs 
 
 For fresh experience in another sphere, 
 To cross the boundary, redress old wrongs 
 
 In ampler life, undewed by sorrow's tear : 
 He strains to catch the echo of new songs, 
 
 And bids the earth adieu without a fear.
 
 ' 'HE THA T LOVETH HIS LIFE:' 7 1 
 
 " HE THAT LOVETH HIS LIFE SHALL LOSE IT.' 
 
 Go, garner thou thy store in well-locked barns, 
 
 And keep thy thoughts within thy silent lips; 
 
 Venture not forth when frosty winter nips, 
 And hide thy gold in deep, dark mountain tarns. 
 Keep all thou canst, let no man share thy gains, 
 
 Let no man know thou hast a beating heart; 
 
 In all the work of life, take thou no part, 
 Dry no sad tears, alleviate no pains. 
 And then, what art thou ? Living all alone, 
 And petrifying slowly into stone, 
 
 No humanising accents from thee fall ; 
 No fallow field beneath thy care grows green; 
 'Twere better that thy life had never been, 
 
 For thou art Nothing ! Judgment worst of ail !
 
 72 OF ED UCA TION B Y CHOICE. 
 
 OF EDUCATION BY CHOICE. 
 
 A CHOICE of youth may lead to long regret 
 For false direction by its impulse given 
 Unto the past, which then is rudely riven 
 
 From life's small whole, to leave it smaller yet, 
 
 With little time to learn or to forget. 
 
 And yet, perchance the future had been lost 
 Except for bitter sorrow failure cost, 
 
 Arousing hopes for ever higher set. 
 
 Some grossness of the nature made that choice 
 Imperative, to cleanse away impurity 
 Contracted by the soul, that its maturity 
 On loftier level, with more even poise 
 May stand and speak aloud with prophet voice ; 
 A squandered past, the staff of its security.
 
 SUFFER, AND BE STRONG. 73 
 
 SUFFER, AND BE STRONG. 
 
 The trees are pruned that they may bear much fruit, 
 And storm and cold make strong the northern heart : 
 Then rouse thee, suff 'rer, bravely do thy part. 
 
 In life's tear-watered garden strike thy root. 
 
 See all the martyrs, mutilated, flayed, 
 
 Burnt at the stake ; yet their faith never failed, 
 The tortured flesh it was, at most, which quailed. 
 
 And these are they who walk in white array'd. 
 
 The heroes of all ages, who endured 
 
 But would not stoop to say one word untrue, 
 From scattered graves speak yet, weak heart, lo you 
 
 Of fruitful blessings their sad lives secured. 
 They smiled in persecution's fire for Right, 
 And died in arms against the tyrant Might.
 
 74 OF PRESENTIMENTS. 
 
 OF PRESENTIMENTS. 
 
 The air before a storm is dull and still, 
 Yet restlessly the leaves sway to and fro 
 Wavering from side to side. Some coming woe 
 I augur from the deadly, numbing chill 
 Of this sad heart, which once was wont at will 
 With ease to rise o'er trials, such as go 
 And come, from whence and whither none can know. 
 I turn from hope to fear, from good to ill, 
 For clouds brood heavily along the West, 
 As lies my future cowering 'neath a fear, 
 A shapeless doubt, and far extending dread. 
 The lightning flash shall be a welcome guest, 
 To rend the growing gloom, and leave it clear, 
 E'en though it strike my heart and leave it dead !
 
 OF EXISTENCE AND LIFE. 75 
 
 OF EXISTENCE AND LIFE. 
 
 Is toiling life so sad as some men think, 
 
 So steeped in pain, so gloomy and distressed ? 
 Believe me, no ! Stand on a river's brink 
 
 And watch the water gliding, then compressed. 
 Which grinds the corn ? The sluggish, shallow stream, 
 
 Loitering 'twixt lovely meads in verdure dressed, 
 Or yonder narrowed mill-race you see gleam, 
 
 Resisting, tossing, rearing its white crest ? 
 
 The fretted water, turned against its will 
 
 By some disposing power that shapes its end. 
 Through pressure rises to its work at length. 
 Shall man exist without th' exultant thrill 
 That honest labour and great effort send 
 Along each nerve, arousing latent strength.
 
 76 IN OXFORD. 
 
 IN OXFORD. 
 
 To stand within these ancient, echoing halls, 
 
 And tread these foot-worn cloisters, cool and dark, 
 Or meditate in high-walled gardens, mark 
 
 The hand of Time laid softly on the walls 
 
 Which sheltered generations; this appals 
 The eager heart, and bids it use its spark 
 Of life with honesty, to light the bark 
 
 That sails a moment, ere death's curtain falls. 
 
 Yes, man is small compared with all mankind. 
 Not e'en so much as one hewn stone close set 
 In these grey Colleges, and yet, — and yet, — 
 
 Each stone must keep its place, that it may bind 
 
 The whole to its perfection : so I find 
 Each life is needed, and my eyes are wet.
 
 DISUSE AND DECAY. 77 
 
 DISUSE AND DECAY. 
 
 The unused limb must shrivel and decay, 
 And a neglected soul as surely pines, 
 Contracts, grows dim, no longer clearly shines. 
 
 Then flickers, and fades out. The god-like ray 
 
 Of spirit vision vanishes away. 
 
 And though the lamp remain, the light is lost, 
 Contentment gained at th' overwhelming cost 
 
 Of that divine unrest which once held sway. 
 
 The passing soul, departing, gives no groan. 
 Its agonies grow feebler as it faints. 
 
 And darkness settles down where light once 
 reigned. 
 The furrows fallow lie, with grain unsown, 
 While foul malaria the still air taints ; 
 
 A slothful heaven of selfish peace is gained !
 
 78 LIMITED AND LIMITLESS. 
 
 LIMITED AND LIMITLESS. 
 
 Within the narrow compass of the real, 
 As in a splendid palace, mankind dwells, 
 With space to live and breathe, and many wells 
 
 From which to drink ; but needful for his weal 
 
 Are boundless heights and depths of the ideal, 
 Exhaustless as the ether which outswells 
 Into a seeming arch, whose vastness quells 
 
 All limitations to the truth unleal. 
 
 The future, looming large and unconfined, 
 And free from trammels of a fixed past, 
 
 Gives ample breathing room for boundless hope. 
 Elastic, radiant, far beyond the scope 
 Of one short life to grasp, or to hold fast ; 
 Illimitable as Eternal mind !
 
 OF PASSION. 79 
 
 OF PASSION. 
 
 Fierce Passion, like the heat of tropic cHnie, 
 Awakes the latent powers within the heart 
 To sudden growth ; from hidden deeps upstart 
 
 The poisonous weed, or gorgeous crown sublime 
 
 Of fragrant flowers ; the soft, melodious chime 
 Of whirring insect life its drowsy part 
 Takes up harmoniously ; or lightning's dart 
 
 To devastate the toil of previous time. 
 
 In that upheaval each soul brings to birth, 
 According to its nature, good or ill 
 In wild profusion, nor is sated till 
 
 For weal or woe, its torrent to the earth 
 
 Is poured resistlessly in deeds of worth. 
 Or hideous crimes with horror hearts to fill.
 
 8o THE NINETEENTH CENTUR Y. 
 
 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 This is the time for living souls to live, 
 
 For generous hearts their wealth of love to pour 
 
 Into an ocean widening evermore 
 To hold the utmost measure man can give. 
 And this the age for earnest minds to seek 
 
 Secure foundations for fast-growing thought ; 
 
 To ask, and ask again, is strongly taught. 
 And what each finds, with courage must he speak. 
 Of freedom, glorious glimpses gleam and glance 
 
 Across the eager eyes oped wide to see 
 
 The promise of a grander century 
 When all shall march where now a few advance. 
 Although we see it not, our lives to-day 
 Are paving, ill or well, the widening way.
 
 AFTER RAIN. 81 
 
 AFTER RAIN. 
 
 How pure the air when ceases summer rain, 
 
 And day's bright atmosphere is crystal clear ; 
 The birds in ecstasy arise again 
 
 On quiv'ring wings, that almost still appear. 
 Each living thing lifts up its head anew, 
 
 The sun shines out, and clouds pass quickly by ; 
 Our tears are shed, and hope springs up to sue 
 
 For life and love, where sorrow longed to die. 
 
 Thank God for tears ! It is the silent grief 
 That eats like rust into a sullen soul, 
 Or flashes swift, dry fire, to devastate 
 With dangerous lightning of despair and hate. 
 When torrents fall, away the storm-clouds roll 
 And sunshine gilds each shining, rain-washed leaf.
 
 82 A SELFISH PARADISE. 
 
 A SELFISH PARADISE. 
 
 They live within an Eden full of joy, 
 By day they wander in its leafy glades, 
 At night lie down to sleep in grateful shades, 
 
 Their youthful hearts are full of glad employ, 
 
 The cares of life pass by without annoy. 
 She envies not the dancing, singing maids, 
 And he breast-high in rapture's river wades, 
 
 No serpent glides, — it seems, — peace to destroy. 
 
 They fare not forth beyond the shining gate. 
 And take no heed of distant, wailing cries. 
 She cares not that the orphaned maiden dies 
 Untended, that wild hearts and hungry wait 
 Outside, for falling crumbs of her glad state. 
 But ah ! the longest summer quickly flies.
 
 DRIVEN OUT I 83 
 
 DRIVEN OUT! 
 
 Fate lingers ere she strikes the final blow ; 
 And when the boisterous breath of winter falls, 
 Its biting edge their tender flesh appals ; 
 
 For hardship unprepared, yet must they go 
 
 To meet the penetrating, drifting snow. 
 
 For warmth and shelter each dismayed heart calls, 
 But closed is Paradise, and round its walls 
 
 A swollen torrent swirls with gath'ring flow. 
 
 Shall they succumb to this severer clime. 
 Or braced to nobler effort by the blast. 
 Their selfishness for ever from them cast. 
 And rise to truer life, and more sublime. 
 Leave Eden-gate, and bravely thither climb 
 Where love attains true blessedness at last ?
 
 84 OF GENIUS AND HUMILITY. 
 
 OF GENIUS AND HUMILITY. 
 
 How shall a gifted man be arrogant ? 
 As well the lighthouse of its place be proud, 
 And scorn the rushing and excited crowd 
 
 Of waves, which roaring round it, seethe and pant. 
 
 His lamp is lighted ; and 'tis his to lift 
 A steady front, to cast his beams afar. 
 That mariners in danger on the bar 
 
 No longer on unwarnbd rocks may drift. 
 
 Capacity is God's one measure used 
 
 To test the life-work of the small or great ; 
 For what man can^ he must do soon or late ; 
 And he who boasts his power has most abused 
 His gifts. Shall widest ocean be elate 
 That it is deep ; a boon to rills refused ?
 
 THE TELEGRAPH WIRES. 85 
 
 THE TELEGRAPH WIRES. 
 
 Across a grey and heavy Autumn sky 
 
 A fleeting glimpse is caught of phantom wires, 
 Enveloped in a mass of clouds they lie 
 
 And scarcely clearer than half-formed desires. 
 I stay to listen with abated breath 
 
 As breezes through those far threads faintly sigh : 
 What words of hope or dread, of life or death, 
 
 O'erhead from heart to heart unnoticed fly ? 
 So slight and subtle e'en material things 
 
 Need be to annihilate dividing space ! 
 Why need we wonder then that mind has wings 
 
 Which flash with lightning speed from place to place, 
 That soul its fibres o'er the dark gulf flings 
 
 To hold a loved one in a fond embrace.
 
 86 THE SPRING-TIME OF LOVE. 
 
 THE SPRING-TIME OF LOVE. 
 
 As each returning Spring awakes the flowers 
 And whispers with its sweet, reviving breath, 
 "Arouse, and bloom again, it was not death 
 
 But sleep which held thee," and her gentle showers 
 
 Transform gaunt woods to happy lovers' bowers, 
 Which echo back the sacred, solemn vows 
 Oft spoken 'neath the interlacing boughs 
 
 By youth and maid, in life's divinest hours ; 
 
 So on the wintry heart Love breathes awhile. 
 And stirs it to its innermost recess, 
 Awaking strange and yearning restlessness 
 
 To reach the soft, warm air. Love can beguile 
 
 The dead to life ; his eyes and tender smile 
 Work miracles of new-born happiness.
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE. 87 
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE. 
 
 The sacred past, the unknown future, link 
 
 Together on the eve of New Year's Day : 
 Last year, the year to come, — we pause, and think 
 
 What that has been, what this shall have to say ; 
 
 And while the eyes and lips are sparkling, gay, 
 The heart stands trembling on the very brink 
 
 Of tears, to know how many are away. 
 A silent health to absent friends we drinL 
 
 A darkness lies around the future's flight, 
 And hides her pathway from our eager eyes ; 
 
 One step before her flashes a faint light, 
 One thread across her busy finger lies. 
 
 No man may know if she be dark or bright, 
 Upon her lips unbroken silence lies.
 
 88 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 An honoured man, and splendidly arrayed, 
 
 The envy of a thousand lesser lights. 
 
 But ah ! look in where now his conscience bites 
 And bids him lay aside this false parade. 
 Devotion to his office has decayed 
 
 Through changing thought ; within himself he fights 
 
 To keep, if possible, the dear delights 
 Of pomp and place. Decision is delayed. 
 Successful, yet how often hath he pressed 
 
 A hand upon his heart the pulse to still 
 
 That throbs so painfully against his will. 
 A prisoner at the bar knows more of rest 
 Than this great cleric, flattered and carressed, 
 
 Who starves his soul, and reads, "Thou shalt not 
 kill."
 
 OF SEEMING WASTE. 89 
 
 OF SEEMING WASTE. 
 
 The forest flower, the heather on the hili, 
 The teeming insect life that swarms the air, 
 What purpose do these serve ? Their beauty rare 
 
 Seems wasted, for blooms die ungathered still ; 
 
 No hand hath plucked them perfume to distil, 
 No voice is heard to say the flies are fair, 
 Nor each for other do they seem to care, 
 
 But come and go, and meet and part, at will. 
 
 This wild profusion seems sometimes but waste ; 
 And yet, it may be, we are far too dull 
 To see their subtle influences start. 
 
 Th' Omniscient has no need for any haste, 
 
 Nor doth he wish that MAN should all things cull ! 
 God sees the whole, where mortals see a part.
 
 90 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF HOPE. 
 
 THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF HOPE. 
 
 The nesting birds in Spring sing merrily, 
 
 And mate with busy note calls to his mate, 
 " These hours are sweet, but summer soon shall be, 
 
 For that more glorious time 'tis hard to wait." 
 Wild Autumn hurries on to strip the tree, 
 
 And with her rough wet hand to desecrate 
 The home ; all unfulfilled the prophecy 
 
 Of perfect pleasure, though the year grows late. 
 
 Yet hope survives ! In this life man may fail, 
 His cherished plans be trodden in the dust, 
 
 His young ideals wither and grow pale, 
 And still assuredly he puts his trust 
 In joy to come : he feels the future must 
 
 Ope wide the gate, his spirit longs to assail !
 
 MATTER AND SPIRIT. 91 
 
 MATTER AND SPIRIT. 
 
 Dull matter lies content in its fixed place, 
 
 No thrilling current through its essence runs ; 
 Not yet the subtle and refining grace 
 
 Of rousing, restless soul, its visage suns. 
 But breathe the Breath of Life into the clod, 
 
 And spirit stirring, strains with opened eyes 
 To pierce the trammels of its narrow sod, 
 
 And flutter nearer to the azure skies. 
 To work will it desire, to teach, be taught, 
 
 But ne'er to live as though it were not come 
 From warmer climes ; ah, thence it surely brought 
 
 Its snatches of sweet song. Soul is not dumb, 
 For rising feebly on its half-grown wings, 
 An exile's home-sick melodies it sings.
 
 92 OF HEROISM. 
 
 OF HEROISM. 
 
 Great heroes have been praised for warhke deeds, 
 Philanthropists for courage to be just, 
 The white-robed priest because he puts his trust 
 
 In God the Father, who e'en ravens feeds. 
 
 In every country, and of all the creeds, 
 
 Prophets and martyrs waging war 'gainst lust 
 Have been revered ; by later ages thrust 
 
 Into the niches superstition breeds. 
 
 But he who lives a stunted, quiet life, 
 Heroic in self-sacrifice, too great 
 
 For his dull prison house, how deep and dire 
 
 The suff'ring he has borne ere eager strife 
 Could end in noble patience, strong to wait. 
 Who sings his steadfast courage in that fire ?
 
 HIDDEN. 93 
 
 HIDDEN. 
 
 Throw open, silent soul, the pearly gate 
 Of thy dark mind, and let the moving air, 
 The vivifying sun, play freely there, 
 
 For unexplored wonders hidden wait 
 
 A friendly hand the gloom to dissipate, 
 
 And bring to light its secrets strange and rare, 
 Which now dense drapery of dust must wear ; 
 
 The mourning garment of the desolate. 
 
 Thou heedest not ; ah, thou art silent still ! 
 No words hast thou to turn the rusty key 
 Of that dark fortress where no footstep falls 
 With answering echo on the massy walls. 
 Mute lips impassable, imprison thee 
 Alone, in dungeons dreary, dark, and chill.
 
 94 THE WAGES OF SIN, 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 
 I. 
 
 Twice o'er Sin pays thee, if thou kiss her hand ; 
 
 She gives thee life, where haunting spectres race 
 To lay their soiling fingers on the brand 
 
 Thy lips have taken from that dread embrace. 
 Remorse, then fear, dark secrecy demand. 
 
 And scorpion whips surround thee, for disgrace 
 With mocking smile and scornful eye doth stand 
 
 To tear thee at a word from thy loved place. 
 
 With one hand Sin gives life unknown before ; 
 
 And with the other death ! She takes from thee 
 Fair innocence that probes thought to the core, 
 
 Majestic in its fearlessness, and free. 
 And thou art ferried to another shore, 
 
 Where many phantoms menace threateningly.
 
 THE WAGES OF SJN. 95 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 
 
 II. 
 
 Upon the brink thou standest long to mourn 
 
 The smiling landscape, once thy fair estate, 
 By swiftly running river from thee torn. 
 
 No boatman backward plies ; why dost thou wait 
 With fruitless tears and aspect so forlorn 
 
 Upon the abhorred deed to meditate, 
 And curse the bitter day, the cheerless dawn. 
 
 For which unwillingly thy heart doth wait ? 
 
 March on, O man, in sober, chastened guise. 
 Well armed by this first fall against surprise ; 
 
 So through disaster wisdom shall gain strength, 
 Some safeguard for the future to devise, 
 
 And bring thee to a citadel at length 
 Where stalwart purity all ill defies.
 
 96 SUSPENSE. 
 
 SUSPENSE. 
 
 The sword is dangling from a lofty roof, 
 
 Suspended by a frail, elastic thread ; 
 And he who sits beneath looks not aloof. 
 
 Although intensely conscious, sick with dread. 
 Against such agony no gold is proof. 
 
 And fate disdains to spare the crowned head, 
 In weaving her mysterious warp and woof. 
 
 Fair purple raiment rends she to a shred. 
 
 The shudd'ring flesh endures the coming wound 
 A hundredfold ; and that dark, threatened woe, 
 
 Through every nerve to torture pitch attuned, 
 Upon a rising scale strikes blow on blow. 
 
 But see ! the sword has fallen ; he has swooned. 
 Suspense is o'er, and healing forces flow !
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. i^i 
 
 AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 I WAKE, and lo ! the sparkling air seems dumb, 
 So deep the peace that broods upon the hills ; 
 But casements opened wide let in fresh rills 
 
 Of blissful sound. From noisy city come, 
 
 In place of industry's gigantic hum, 
 A murmur of the bees the garden fills. 
 And mountain calm upon the heart distils 
 
 In soothing dews, till carking care grows numb. 
 
 'Tis life's elixir to leave towns behind 
 And revel in a place of crowded peaks ; 
 
 Each well-known outline eagerly to find, 
 
 And press the Kps to Summer's blushing cheeks. 
 
 Up, up, past beds of bracken, where the wind 
 Across the bursting heather softly speaks.
 
 98 VICARIOUS SUFFERING. 
 
 VICARIOUS SUFFERING. 
 
 Though every man his meed of pain endures, 
 Not all have felt the joy beneath the grief, 
 For which the longest agony seems brief, 
 
 So true the satisfaction it assures. 
 
 A power there is in sufif'ring that allures 
 The sternest and the hardest to its side ; 
 A dying word suffices to ope wide 
 
 The long-locked soul, and pour in oil that cure?. 
 
 Then die is faith. Nay, harder, choose to live ! 
 
 Thy pain upon the altar bravely lay ; 
 
 Unselfish joy is thine, if thou canst say 
 " My pangs for him, or her, I freely give." 
 
 Long tongues of light shoot from celestial day 
 
 Their roseate hues to cast upon thy way.
 
 THE DISCOVERER. 99 
 
 THE DISCOVERER. 
 
 He stands with lifted taper in the midst 
 
 Of dark mysterious worlds, and strains to see 
 
 Beyond the circlet's haloed radiancy. 
 Titanic facts he holds with iron wrist, 
 Until their Hfeless lips to life are kissed, 
 
 Their features limned for all futurity. 
 
 Content he is to live most sparingly 
 If but one link the less of truth be missed ! 
 
 One atom understood, one inch annexed, 
 One higher harmony, a lifetime sought, 
 Hath he by patient toil with ardour bought ; 
 One secret opened, one thought less perplexed, 
 One step prepared for him who cometh next. 
 He sleeps in peace; his life was not for naught.
 
 loo - CARNIVAL. 
 
 CARNIVAL. 
 
 In holiday attire, with sparkling eyes 
 
 The young fare forth a Carnival to enjoy; 
 In glitt'ring shows the senses find employ, 
 
 O'er seething multitudes day swiftly flies ; 
 
 Exhilaration wave on wave doth rise, 
 
 Till fast and furious grows the fun, and masks 
 Are donned to cover o'er mysterious tasks, 
 
 And merriment in boisterous laughter dies. 
 
 Processions pass, fair flowers are wildly thrown. 
 Unearthly forms glide stealthily, disguised. 
 The sober citizen is soon despised, 
 
 And Order yields to wild Misrule her throne. 
 
 The dancing masquers every care disown, 
 And hour by hour are gayer games devised.
 
 LENT. loi 
 
 LENT. 
 
 But list ! The Minster chimes ring midnight. Lent 
 Begins, with days of penitence enforced, 
 The heated brain, where pleasure swiftly coursed, 
 
 Is aching on a pillow, or down bent 
 
 Beneath a lofty dome. The air is rent 
 No more with madd'ning ecstasy or song, 
 Dark words, instead, of agony and wrong 
 
 With piteous prayers and dull regrets are blent. 
 
 For this year, — or this life, — the masquerade 
 Is over; treading softly, strive thou well. 
 That on thy heart the coming advent-bell 
 
 May echo gladly. O prepare to wade 
 
 The stream 'twixt years, — or lives, — all undismayed, 
 Full glad that Lenten penance on thee fell.
 
 102 CONVERSION, 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 
 We walk perforce upon an upward track, 
 Our faces backward turned to glance below ; 
 With stumbling and unseeing steps we go, 
 
 As to the sharp embrace of torture's rack. 
 
 To this side, then to that, we vainly tack, 
 And progress is uncertain, painful, slow. 
 For duty knows not ardour's cheerful glow. 
 
 And from the valley voices call us back. 
 
 But hark ! at noon a clear, resounding note 
 
 Far, far above, falls through the stilly air ; 
 
 And eager eyes are turned to scan with care 
 The rocky incline, whence the accents float. 
 
 Th' abyss forgotten, dangerous steps we dare ; 
 
 To willing feet the steep ascent grows fair.
 
 A REVERIE. 103 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 She sat beneath the hawthorn's scented shade, 
 Her golden head against its rugged trunk, 
 In day-dreams of the future deeply sunk, 
 
 With spotless robes of innocence arrayed. 
 
 The summer breezes, softly passing, swayed 
 
 The blossom-laden branches ; white showers fell 
 Upon the upturned face, and broke the spell, 
 
 Recalling wand'ring fancies whence they strayed. 
 
 What were the thoughts behind that dream-rapt face, 
 What hopes, what visions crowded on her sight? 
 
 Saw she a silver thread, by which to trace 
 
 Her way through cloudy day and moonless night. 
 
 Or have her wishes cankered roots, to blight 
 Her beauty, and destroy her guileless grace?
 
 I04 OF BLINDNESS. 
 
 OF BLINDNESS. 
 
 Within the arching hollow of the dark, 
 
 Resounding on the sight-stripped, quickened ear, 
 Fall many steps and voices. Ah, how drear 
 
 To list the rising of the happy lark, 
 
 To feel the warmth of summer sun, and mark 
 The fall of ripples on the strand, and hear 
 The rustle of the giant limes quite near. 
 
 Yet never see of beauty, e'en one spark ! 
 
 Ah yes, 'tis sad to live with closed eyes, 
 But sadder far, that blindness of the soul 
 Which hears the tide of life for ever roll, 
 And feels the heat that glowing hope applies 
 To rouse a frost-bound world, yet helpless lies. 
 Awaiting guidance to its unseen goal.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMANHOOD. 105 
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMANHOOD. 
 
 Woman a living soul ! The savage laughs, 
 
 So wild the thought. What, she, the slavish squaw, 
 Who humbly stands within the wigwam door 
 
 And bending, hands her lord the cup he quaffs. 
 
 The woman has no soul ; no epitaphs. 
 
 No tales, no songs of all his great tribe's store 
 Are said, or sung, for her who lives no more, 
 
 And then again in utter scorn he laughs ! 
 
 But she who hears the words, knows what is said. 
 
 And in her heart a Something strangely stirs 
 
 As softly as a zephyr o'er the furze. 
 
 It whispers, " Thou, and he whom thou hast wjd, 
 
 Shall never die." The stern chief turns his head, 
 
 Gazes on her brightened face, and wonders !
 
 io6 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMANHOOD. 
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMANHOOD. 
 
 II. 
 
 Woman a living soul ! The brave knight yields 
 The point : benignly grants that greatest gift 
 Of immortality, and deigns to lift 
 
 The woman from the earth. Yet still he wields 
 
 A mighty power. " 'Tis man," he says, "who shields 
 The weakling from the dangers of the way. 
 From all the heat and burthen of the day, 
 
 That she may shelter in his shady fields.'' 
 
 But she, who sees fair strangers come, and go. 
 From distant lands, or to some warmer clime, 
 Who hears of oceans vast, of hills sublime, 
 
 With summits clad in pure, eternal snow, 
 
 Grows weary of those groves and longs to climb 
 
 To heights where fresher breezes freely blow.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMANHOOD. 107 
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMANHOOD. 
 
 III. 
 
 Woman a living soul ! Thank God, we say, 
 No woman now need ask that boon to share ; 
 She claims her right that crown of thorns to wear, 
 
 To lift the cross, to tread the rugged way 
 
 Which leads from earth, to pure, eternal day; 
 In truth's great quest her earnest part to bear, 
 From falsehood its beguiling mask to tear, 
 
 Her part right well upon this plane to play. 
 
 Unsullied womanhood, with lifted eyes, 
 Stands gazing steadily on opening skies ; 
 
 Before that purity the proudest bow. 
 No scornful lip her worshippers defies. 
 She listens calmly to their clam'rous cries, 
 
 And bids them live as those bound by a vow.
 
 io8 A SUNBEAM. 
 
 A SUNBEAM. 
 
 As when a sunbeam lights a gloomy vale, 
 And gilds the common haunts of every day; 
 
 Or pierces through the wierd and weary wail 
 Of sighing wind, with bright and cheery ray; 
 
 Or penetrates a dark tarn's misty veil 
 Forcing a smile upon its face to play; 
 
 Or follows on the storm-cloud's inky trail, 
 To chase its sullen sadness quite away; 
 
 So on my heart a gleam of purest joy 
 
 Breaks through the atmosphere of doubt and dread, 
 And flickers round my bowed and aching head. 
 
 It whispers in my ear, " Rise now, employ 
 Thy God-given powers; thy dark way boldly tread." 
 I rise, and lo ! the stormy clouds have fled !
 
 THEN AND NOW. 109 
 
 THEN AND NOW. 
 
 In bygone days I carolled like a bird, 
 
 And thought to penetrate life's secret core ; 
 
 Deep draughts I drank of sweet delight, and saw 
 Prismatic hues around ; light fancies whirred 
 In sunny places, nor was I deterred 
 
 From explorations on the slippery shore 
 
 Of unrestrained imagination's lore, 
 For fear remained a pulseless, lifeless word. 
 But now, my hand goes out into a realm 
 
 So vast, I feel no thrill of air returned 
 
 From any boundary, and I have learned 
 To fear the infinite, lest it o'erwhclm 
 
 The individuality that burned 
 A beacon for the pilot at the helm.
 
 no OF IMMOR TALITY. 
 
 OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Why wait for an immortal life, till Death 
 Has laid his hand upon a life like this ? 
 The future will not bring created bliss 
 
 Or new desires, through failure of the breath. 
 
 The child exists before he breathes the air ; 
 Could he inspire at all, save that he lives ? 
 And only in the measure this day gives 
 
 'Tis possible to-morrow's life to share. 
 
 Bestir thyself; draw in deep draughts of thought, 
 Of love, and sympathy ; awake, and know 
 That here, and now, the heavenly waters flow 
 
 From founts perennial, waiting to be sought. 
 
 Immortal life is not mere length of days. 
 
 But growing power to walk in widening ways !
 
 OF PR UNING A ND PR OD UCTION. 1 1 1 
 
 OF PRUNING AND PRODUCTION. 
 
 The gleaming knife seems cruel, ruthless, keen, 
 While throbbing flesh is shrinking from its bite, 
 And darkness, like the coming of the night, 
 
 Is falling on the spirit held between 
 
 This world and that, and all things it has seen 
 Flash, phantom-like, upon its failing sight. 
 What words are these the pruning blade doth write 
 
 Upon the branches robbed of vivid sheen ? 
 
 ^^Pain 7neans production^ Though the wounds still 
 smart. 
 The bruisbd body groans against its will, 
 Its ebbing life-blood soon rebounds, to fill 
 The mutilated limbs, and then the heart 
 With quickened pace takes up anew its part. 
 And autumn fruits attest the gard'ner's skill.
 
 112 ''THE DIVINE unrest: 
 
 "THE DIVINE UNREST." 
 
 If ocean rested from her ceaseless flow, 
 
 The whole domain of Nature were unstrung; 
 And if man's heart should ever cease to know 
 
 The restless striving, — of which he has sung, — 
 Then were his future lost at one fell blow, 
 
 The passing bell of progress o'er him rung, 
 His stature stunted, then, he could not grow, 
 
 And back to earth his useless clay were flung ! 
 
 A constant longing, which he cannot quell, 
 To follow where swift-footed doubt first ran ; 
 
 His discontent in shady ease to dwell. 
 And dogged effort to do all he can ; 
 
 The aspirations words can never tell, 
 
 All these are choicest gifts of God to man.
 
 OF CO NSC 10 USNESS. i \ 3 
 
 OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 The ocean covers gardens wondrous fair, 
 
 And hideous monsters, from all curious eyes, 
 Hides them away, save in the shallows, where 
 
 Quite near the shore it bares its mysteries, 
 And yields to sight an underworld. Ah, rare 
 
 Are days when e'en that little clearly lies 
 Revealed to man ; and who shall ever dare 
 
 To say, the fringe is all the sea supplies. 
 
 Deep down, below the conscious life which speaks 
 Its thoughts, lie unexjilorbd regions vast, 
 Where tangled yearnings growing sway, and cast 
 Entreating arms unto the light, that seeks 
 To find them ; but the earth-wind passing, shrieks, 
 And all is tumult where his foot hath passed.
 
 114 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 Spring showers are tears of childhood, soon they pass, 
 And leave the sweet forget-me-nots more pure ; 
 
 They freshen every tender blade of grass, 
 The little griefs they quickly, surely cure. 
 
 But tears of stern maturity, alas ! 
 
 Are wild destructive torrents, hard to endure, 
 
 And gather sullenly, a leaden mass, 
 With scanty power to soften, or allure. 
 
 Old age forgets the fiercer thunder rain. 
 
 As spirit cleanses off each earthly stain ; 
 The bliss and agony for it are past, 
 An even hue o'er joy and grief are cast : 
 
 Though gentle tears of memory may fall, 
 
 The light and shade of life no more appal.
 
 CHRISTMA S DAY. 115 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 'Tis Christmas Day ! The day when joy and peace 
 Were promised to a wild, tumultuous world : 
 Yea, peace is planted, though she lies long furled 
 In human hearts ; and sure is her increase, 
 As sure as God ; whose hand doth never cease 
 To guide the avalanche, like thunder hurled 
 Upon the plain ; or tender bud close curled 
 Within its sheath. He shall, at last, release 
 His children from the prison-house of doubt. 
 And set them free, in pure and perfect air 
 Of love and hope ; and then each life made fair 
 As His who gave it, clean within, without, 
 Shall send from land to land a ringing shout — 
 " All hail ! for men are brothers everywhere ! "
 
 ii6 THE BOILING POINT. 
 
 THE BOILING POINT. 
 
 Go, watch a seething cauldron as it boils, 
 
 And note the sudden stoppage of the steam ; 
 The treacherous calmness of the surface foils 
 
 The senses, — all is silent as a dream. 
 But one degree between the seeming peace 
 
 And wildest torrents bursting all their bounds ; 
 And, ere the raging lava currents cease. 
 
 The shrinking air with groans and sobs resounds. 
 Beneath the calm, collected, courteous speech 
 
 Which covers these tumultuous hearts of ours, 
 Lie surging passions which shall only reach 
 
 To action, during strain of life's hot hours ; 
 And yet this heat, in man and nature too, 
 May be the motive power great deeds to do.
 
 REPENTANCE AND RESTITUTION. 117 
 
 REPENTANCE AND RESTITUTION. 
 
 At the eleventh hour man may repent, — 
 
 The thief upon the cross a pardon won, — 
 But can his thoughts on ease or bliss be bent. 
 
 Until what man may do is truly done 
 To right old wrongs, to clear the innocent, 
 
 To drive away the mists that hide the sun. 
 And close the yawning cleft his hand has rent? 
 
 This side the grave, th' repentant man doth run 
 To make full restitution ; shall he lose 
 
 Unselfishness in passing out of time. 
 
 And fly to sing "Hosanna," knowing well 
 The load, that for his sake, so darkly fell 
 
 On those he leaves behind ? That were a crime 
 Impossible, if he have power to choose !
 
 ii8 THE LILY. 
 
 THE LILY. 
 
 A GENTLE maiden sings her tender song 
 
 Of quiet joy amid her blossoms rare ; 
 She kisses their sweet faces, hng'ring long, 
 
 And only plucks the fairest of the fair, 
 
 Herself a flow'ret pure as any there. 
 No thought hath she of hardship or of wrong ; 
 
 Shall any mortal in her presence dare 
 To flaw her girlish peace, with passion strong? 
 
 Ah no ! in sheltered gardens let her rest, 
 
 Not hers the stormy heights of life to gain ; 
 For summer sunshine and soft falling rain 
 
 Is her frail spirit fitted. Leave her, lest 
 
 Her love awaked should bring her life-long pain, 
 
 And broken, she should wither on thy breast.
 
 AN OPEN GRA VE. 119 
 
 AN OPEN GRAVE. 
 
 O MOURNER, be consoled ; she is not far, 
 For neither earth nor sea delays the flight 
 Of her ethereal essence, robed in light. 
 
 It flashes like a beam, where loved ones are; 
 
 And they who grieve too much may e'en debar 
 Her entrance to the regions of the bright. 
 And bring a shadow, as of earthly night. 
 
 Upon the visage that were else a star. 
 
 This world knows her no more ; yet she survives ! 
 
 Awake, O hope of immortality. 
 
 And set the mourner from death's trammels free. 
 The narrow portal of the grave deprives 
 No living soul of life : that passage shrives 
 
 The spirit from its fleshly agony.
 
 I20 THE PAGAN'S PROTEST. 
 
 THE PAGAN'S PROTEST. 
 
 Speak not to me of joy born out of tears, 
 Of life transfigured in the fire of grief. 
 I love the sunshine, and 'tis my belief 
 
 That happiness is best, and that it clears 
 
 The vision more completely : it endears 
 All earthly life, to silver turns each leaf, 
 And casts a halo round the gathered sheaf, 
 
 All nature looks her best when sun appears ! 
 
 Is then this life the whole, the Christian asks ? 
 
 Is joy the end for which mankind was born ? 
 Are there no nobler and more fruitful tasks 
 
 Than just to glitter through a sunny morn ? 
 Believe me, he, or she, who only basks, 
 
 The fairest crown of life has never worn !
 
 EXPECTA TION IS PROPHEC V. 121 
 
 EXPECTATION IS PROPHECY. 
 
 If man could see behind the aging breast, 
 
 And read the thoughts beneath the whitened hair, 
 Could feel the calm exterior hardly pressed, 
 
 By surging longings, ne'er in words laid bare, 
 Then would he realise that life at best 
 
 Is not an end ; it cannot still all care 
 Within a soul which here can find no rest. 
 
 Yet ever hopes to find it otherwhere ! 
 
 Prophetic are these aspirations ; sight 
 Is only possible where things exist, 
 
 And now matured hearts discern a morn 
 To break in splendour after Time's long night. 
 The mother loves her child ere she has kissed 
 Its lips. E'en thus diviner life is born !
 
 122 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 The end is drawing near ; I seem to know 
 
 That what I had to say is almost said ; 
 
 That one prepares to sever from my head 
 The lock that binds to life ; that I may go 
 To render my account of joy and woe, 
 
 In fairer regions of the happy dead. 
 
 Upon my eyes a dawn begins to spread 
 Behind the hills of time. My lamp burns low. 
 
 Let me remember all the varied past 
 In this last softened and matured mood. 
 At first, with youth's audacity I stood 
 Alone, and feared not ; then by grief downcast 
 I looked from earth, to win a hope more vast : 
 I wonder, and adore ; all has been good !
 
 LOOK UPWARD. 123 
 
 LOOK UPWARD. 
 
 They walked one day together, he and she, 
 
 Along a rough field-path ; a silent pair. 
 He inwardly repined, "There's naught to see 
 
 Upon a road like this, that leads nowhere." 
 While she, with beaming eyes, looked lovingly 
 
 At budding trees and hedgerows passing fair, 
 And higher yet, where on an azure sea 
 
 The cloudlets sailed without a shadowing care. 
 
 Was that one universe these creatures saw ? 
 His gloomy brows were gathered to a frown, 
 While she forgot the beaten track worn brown, 
 And saw on every side a bounteous store 
 Of beauty, that transfigured earth's dull floor ; 
 For she gazed up, while he looked ever down !
 
 124 OF SORROW. 
 
 OF SORROW. 
 
 I SAID, " This burthen is too hard to bear, 
 And I will cast it from me, and go free 
 To distant lands, new constellations see, 
 
 Live for myself alone, and know no care." 
 
 'Twas done ; and yet sometimes the balmy air 
 Took shape and weight, and laid itself on me, 
 Intangible, a ghost of memory, 
 
 Rebellious hearts unwillingly must bear. 
 
 The fairest scene became a haunted spot ; 
 
 Unhurt, I stood as one bowed down with pain ; 
 I yearned for rest, and yet she heeded not, 
 
 For dreamless sleep I prayed, — yet prayed in vain ! 
 And then I said, " This is the hardest lot, 
 
 Let me go back to my own place again."
 
 OF DISCONTENT. 125 
 
 OF DISCONTENT. 
 
 If thou art satisfied with that thou hast, 
 
 How can man teach thee aught ? 'Tis seekers find 
 The hidden treasures of the earth and mind ; 
 
 And restless ones who ever forward cast 
 
 Their longing eyes, though outcome of the past, 
 With faces to the future well inclined, 
 Against the chains of custom have repined, 
 
 Undaunted by the clouds around them massed. 
 
 O man, be not content, but dredge the deep 
 Within thee, till great thoughts may sail 
 With safety there, nor dread a stormy gale. 
 But spread broad canvas to the breeze, and keep 
 A steady course, though roaring billows leap, 
 And wailing voices warn thee thou shalt fail !
 
 126 A BRIDE'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 A BRIDE'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 A CHILD I knew thee, and a fair, fresh maid ; 
 And now a wife art thou to whom I sing, 
 And as I ponder it my heart would ding 
 To thee as now thou art ! I tremble, am dismayed. 
 To think that every year, a tribute paid 
 
 On this thy natal day, youth's knell must ring. 
 That time the lines of care and age will bring ; 
 And yet, why should I be so sore afraid, 
 For time, which ages thee, must age me too. 
 And young together, life shall only knit 
 Our hearts more closely ; and the love-flame lit 
 Within my heart must steadier grow, more true, 
 For thou, O Love, hast power my life to imbue 
 With earnest purpose, for thy pure soul fit.
 
 ''OUT OF THE eater:' 127 
 
 OUT OF THE EATER COMETH FORTH MEAT.' 
 
 Upon a slough trees thrive and grow awhile, 
 
 Seem flourishing, and deck themselves with leaves, 
 
 But tossed by storm, no rooted strength retrieves 
 Th' unwonted strain ; they fall in one vast pile ; 
 Then fade, decay, become but refuse vile, 
 
 And are absorbed into the porous soil 
 
 To lie for centuries ; until the toil 
 Of later days finds that which coal they style. 
 Thus e'en disaster turns to good in time ; 
 
 The ills of one age benefit the next ; 
 
 The problems which to-day have so perplexed 
 Sad souls, may, in some distant age or clime. 
 Be found the only means for ends sublime. 
 
 Though shallow man o'er them his heart has vexed.
 
 128 THE PIONEER OF PROGRESS. 
 
 THE PIONEER OF PROGRESS. 
 
 "The folly of this foolish law I see; 
 
 Why then shall I refrain from swift advance ? " 
 Look back, O pioneer, with eagle glance, 
 
 And pause ere opening floodgates to a sea 
 
 Of lawlessness and fierce ferocity. 
 
 Remember Revolution's ghastly dance. 
 Then realize the force of circumstance, 
 
 And of the outward lives of men like thee. 
 
 A law art thou unto thyself; then stay 
 
 Within the barrier, and ever strive 
 Along progressive paths to lead the way, 
 And train the infant future day by day. 
 
 At no licentious liberty connive. 
 Yet pour on sham a penetrating ray.
 
 REST, OR RENEWED ACTIVITY. 129 
 
 REST, OR RENEWED ACTIVITY. 
 
 How shall he rest at death, whose roving feet 
 
 The ways of life have walked without a pause, 
 For whom the days and years have been too fleet, 
 
 And every season an exciting cause 
 
 To work ? E'en night and sleep have open doors, 
 And problems are propounded while hearts beat 
 
 Unconsciously ; oblivion rarely pours 
 Her waters on the soul that finds thought sweet. 
 
 The sensuous heaven of settled, selfish peace 
 Were scarcely heaven to any seeking soul ; 
 
 Its search for truth can never, never cease, 
 Desiring always to explore the whole, 
 
 Its ardour and unrest can but increase 
 Upon attainment of desired goal.
 
 I30 OF SINCERITY. 
 
 OF SINCERITY. 
 
 Sincerity bestows her silent gifts 
 
 On open minds, as evening showers dew 
 Upon the fields, refreshing them anew. 
 
 Her patient perseverance slowly lifts 
 
 The life above the superstitious drifts 
 Of futile fallacies, to facts untrue, 
 Restoring all distorted forms ; in lieu 
 
 Of worthless dross, grains of pure gold she sifts. 
 
 She rocks the cradle of the infant truth, 
 And shelters him from desecrating hands, 
 Until a godlike hero bravely stands 
 
 To captivate the hearts of martial youth, 
 And send them forth in regulated bands, 
 Beneath his flag to conquer distant lands.
 
 COUNT TOLSTOI. 131 
 
 COUNT TOLSTOI. 
 
 From many lands thoughts fare on pilgrimage 
 Unto the home of him who tries to rise 
 Above desire of any worldly prize, 
 
 The fever-heat of avarice to assuage, 
 
 'Gainst luxury a holy war to wage. 
 
 New pathways for the future to devise, 
 Bestowing on the blind perceptive eyes, 
 
 To pierce the secret hidden 'neath his page. 
 
 A man of many sorrows, yet revered 
 For honest purpose, and a heart of gold 
 Most freely spent, with agonies untold, 
 To feed the hungry. Strange the way he steered 
 To gain the shore he overran, and cleared 
 Of those who in the Temple bought and sold.
 
 132 OF GRA VITA TION. 
 
 OF GRAVITATION. 
 
 Some are there who perform their daily round 
 Of active service, and make no complaint ; 
 
 Unto the wheel of painful duty bound, 
 Endure with patience, never fail or faint, 
 And yet from earth contract no soiling taint. 
 
 For though the body clings to solid ground. 
 The spirit gravitates, a haloed saint, 
 
 For ever upward, where its like are found. 
 
 A moment of repose, and lo, 'tis there ! 
 All sorrow quite forgotten, as it rings 
 A rythmic measure from its rising wings ; 
 
 For moving freely through the rarer air, 
 
 No shadow of perplexity or care, 
 
 Remains to dull the rapturous song it sings.
 
 OF SELFISHNESS. 1 3 3 
 
 OF SELFISHNESS. 
 
 A FROSTY fog lies on the fields and hides 
 The ample sky and panorama spread 
 Above, around ; and sullen thoughts are bred 
 
 In selfish hearts, restricting on all sides 
 
 The sympathies, those far-expanding guides 
 By which one soul to other souls is led, 
 To share with men less favoured daily bread, 
 
 In faith cast out on life's o'erflowing tides. 
 
 The fate of those condemned to icy caves, 
 Where echoes shrilly answer wasted breath, 
 
 Congealing as it hangs in cloudy waves, 
 
 Is bliss compared with selfishness that laves 
 In petrifying pools of living death, 
 
 Yet isolated, hates the life it craves.
 
 134 A SENSITIVE PLATE. 
 
 A SENSITIVE PLATE. 
 
 The lightest touch pure melody creates 
 
 On well attuned and deftly handled string, 
 And ah, how sensitive the mind that waits 
 
 Reverberations of its age to sing ! 
 No hesitation knows it, nor debates 
 
 Of what were best to do, or say, or bring ; 
 All sounds it hears it earnestly relates, 
 
 And echoes on its polished surface ring. 
 
 It has been taught, perchance, as others are, 
 And only moulds materials it knows, 
 But far beyond that narrow limit flows, 
 
 Reflecting earth and sea, the sky and star ; 
 Impressions dimple on it, as it goes 
 
 Into the infinite unknown, afar.
 
 A GOSPEL OF SCIENCE. 135 
 
 A GOSPEL OF SCIENCE * 
 
 Good news, good news, proclaimed upon the earth, 
 Is sounding through the pulses of mankind, 
 And if the gospel taught be true, how blind 
 Has been the past ! Not tainted at his birth, 
 Not handing down fresh stains destroying worth. 
 But always fitted to begin afresh, 
 If but relieved from the destructive mesh 
 Of adverse circumstance. Of joy no dearth 
 Were this great message proved; then hope would 
 raise 
 Her youthful head, and look with beaming eyes 
 Upon the foulest man that grovelling lies, 
 And sing sustaining and restoring lays 
 To banish dark despair from future days, 
 Bestowing life as a desired prize ! 
 
 Professor Weismann's theory of the continuity of the germ-plasm.
 
 136 THE ELASTICITY OF TIME. 
 
 THE ELASTICITY OF TIME. 
 
 " The days are rigid, circumscribed and short, 
 
 Monotonously wearisome and tame." 
 
 Not so, O sensualist ; a noble aim 
 A widely dififerent lesson soon had taught. 
 Thy days are empty rounds of pleasure, fraught 
 
 With memories too few, and full of shame; 
 
 But 'tis thyself, not Time, that thou shouldst blame, 
 Elastic he, by strong hands firmly caught ; 
 For well-used moments draw out pliant hours 
 
 To wonderous lengths of joy and usefulness; 
 
 And days there are, that seem to be no less 
 Than infinite, so plentiful the showers 
 Descending on the quickly growing powers 
 
 Of him who spends himself, his kind to bless.
 
 NA TURE 'S MASQ UERADE. 1 3 7 
 
 NATURE'S MASQUERADE. 
 
 Fair Nature singing, danced and played, 
 In summer's garb of green arrayed, 
 And wandered with a sober pace 
 Through autumn days with stately grace ; 
 And then she longed to change her part, 
 To act the stoic-seeming heart. 
 She cast about awhile, to see 
 How she might do it thoroughly. 
 "I have been gay and grave," she said. 
 And now I'll feign that I am dead ; 
 I'll clothe the world in stainless white. 
 And make the darkest forests light." 
 She chilled her breath and sent it forth 
 From unknown regions of the north ; 
 Through hollow spaces of the air 
 Bright elfin forms, both frail and fair. 
 Came hovering ; uncertain yet 
 The destination for them set. 
 But faster, faster, came they till 
 They settled down on dale and hill. 
 On cottage, tree, and riverside, 
 At first to melt and then abide. 
 The downy plumage of the sky 
 Soon buried earth from every eye,
 
 138 NA TURE 'S MASQ UERADE, 
 
 The laden trees enchanted stood 
 
 Along the edges of the wood, 
 
 And stretched still arms across the fence, 
 
 As if deploring deadened sense, 
 
 And warding off the coming snow 
 
 Which fell above, around, below. 
 
 The world lay glitt'ring, silent, cold, 
 
 The sun stayed long behind the wold ; 
 
 With crowding flakes the air grew dark, 
 
 Till earth began the gloom to mark 
 
 And changed her robes from white to grey, 
 
 Befitting dreary winter day. 
 
 Each breath hung visibly in air, 
 
 The lake assumed a face of care ; 
 
 Its ruffled surface stiffened soon 
 
 To wrinkles 'neath the struggling moon. 
 
 And frowned, and tossed its tresses light, 
 
 In answer to the breath of night, 
 
 Nor smiled when eve's fair orb looked out, 
 
 But seemed to shudder or to pout. 
 
 The fettered river ceased to implore 
 
 Unheeding Nature to restore 
 
 Congealed currents to a state 
 
 More fit with life and love to mate. 
 
 And then when snow forgot to fall. 
 
 Over the undulating pall 
 
 Of Mother Earth, long tongues of light 
 
 From glancing stars gleamed diamond bright.
 
 NATURE'S MASQUERADE. 139 
 
 No sound of beast, or song of bird, 
 O'er all the ghostly world was heard, 
 The forests and the streams were dumb, 
 And Nature's hour of death seemed come. 
 Serene and strangely still she lay, 
 Awaiting her last judgment day ; 
 No requiem disturbed her rest, 
 No child lay sobbing on her breast ; 
 The last of all her kind seemed she, 
 Unwakable eternally. 
 
 But soon the fickle dame began 
 
 To peep where once her children ran, 
 
 She wearied of her solemn game, 
 
 And then commenced to scold and blame. 
 
 The sighing breezes took her plaint 
 
 And whispered it with accents faint, 
 
 Along the frost-bound river brink, 
 
 To laden trees, and through each chink 
 
 Cracked open in the hardened ground ; 
 
 Till soon two tiny shoots were found, 
 
 Which peered above the stiffened soil ; 
 
 Not long the envious snow could foil 
 
 Their eager curiosity, 
 
 The whispering air above to see. 
 
 Then weary of her masquerade 
 
 Dame Nature waked each dripping glade ; 
 
 And where the snowdrop hung its cup, 
 
 The hardy crocus started up.
 
 1 40 NA TV RE 'S MASQ UERADE. 
 
 And boldly raised her golden head 
 
 To gem once more her grassy bed. 
 
 The ice 'gan groaning on the lake, 
 
 Which rose and strained its bonds to break ; 
 
 The trees shook off their tiresome load, 
 
 And gusty winds began to goad 
 
 The hedgerows, till with shrilly cry, 
 
 Unclad, they begged him pass them by. 
 
 A friendly face the sun once more 
 
 Displayed at morn, and to her core 
 
 The earth drank in reviving heat ; 
 
 Her thawing pulses 'gan to beat. 
 
 Flashed messages to tree and bush, 
 
 Increased their current to a rush ; 
 
 And when the nesting birds at last 
 
 Sang their sweet songs, the Masque was passed ; 
 
 And Nature, glad to be alive. 
 
 Woke up all inmates of her hive. 
 
 And bade each creature rouse, and bring 
 
 Its tribute to another spring.
 
 SEARCH IS BEST. 141 
 
 SEARCH IS BEST. 
 
 Where fringes of the ocean chafing, fret 
 
 The wave-worn stones, a youth with eager eyes 
 Is striving to discern through glowing skies, 
 
 The shore, where soon the sinking sun will set. 
 
 Upon his face fall glorious crimson rays, 
 Yet is he not content to stand and look ; 
 He longs to hear the words the wavelets shook 
 
 From meeting crests, ere parting diverse ways. 
 
 Some secret of the gorgeous sunset land 
 
 They whispered, each to each in that embrace, 
 And now delighted, smiling, rush and race 
 
 A happy, restless, and adventurous band. 
 
 *• Shall I alone stay here and never know 
 What lies beyond this beauteous, beaconing deep, 
 Shall I, alive, be hushed to death-like sleep, 
 
 And o'er the ocean sailing, fail to go ? 
 
 " Ah no, I cannot stay, some shadowy hand 
 Is luring me to deeds unthought before, 
 Some voice is whispering a mysterious lore 
 
 To be attained, could I but understand.
 
 142 SEARCH IS BEST. 
 
 " I cannot stay ; my heart is beating fast 
 With sudden hopes flashed on me from above, 
 Their value or their emptiness to prove 
 
 I lift my anchor and forget the past." 
 
 With hasty tread he hurries to the shore 
 
 To spread broad canvas to the summer breeze, 
 And float away across unsounded seas. 
 
 Returning to his childhood's strand no more. 
 
 Far, far away, a frail and tossing boat 
 
 Speeds o'er the waters ; though the billows roar, 
 A weary man plods on with broken oar 
 
 To keep the little coble still afloat. 
 
 Its timbers strain, and threaten at each shock 
 To part asunder ; breezes loudly shriek, 
 Tormenting words they seem to him to speak, 
 
 His parched lips with the salt spray they mock. 
 
 No shore in sight ; clouds racing o'er the sky, 
 A golden halo round the shrouded moon ; 
 The end is coming, coming all too soon, 
 
 And he upon the waste of waves must die. 
 
 "Give up, O man," they cry, "thy toil and rest, 
 Thou sought'st the land, thy life has been in vain. 
 Dost thou regret thy youth, thy long-borne pain ? " 
 
 " Not so," he sighed; "I sought, and Search is Best."
 
 THE DYING BOY, 143 
 
 THE DYING BOY. 
 
 Sit here beside me, mother dear, 
 
 And don't put out the light just now ; 
 
 I Hke to see the stars appear, 
 
 And feel your hand upon my brow. 
 
 While I lie here so quietly, 
 
 I often see such pleasant things ; 
 
 Trees wave, and birds sing merrily, 
 I feel as though I rose on wings. 
 
 I quite forget I cannot walk, 
 
 Indeed it does not matter much, 
 
 For I can always think or talk. 
 
 Don't move your hand, I like your touch. 
 
 There's only one thing I regret. 
 The time slips far too fast away. 
 
 Why, mother dear, your eyes are wet ! 
 Have you not had a happy day ? 
 
 O there's my star ; so now good-night ; 
 
 I know you're tired, because you weep, 
 So kiss me, and put out the light. 
 
 He slept that night his long last sleep.
 
 144 THE HEARTS REPL Y. 
 
 THE HEART'S REPLY. 
 
 Rippling river, tell me 
 What your wavelets murmur as they go ; 
 
 Tell me, stay and tell me 
 Why they smile so gladly as they flow. 
 
 Rolling ocean, tell me 
 What your billows murmur to the strand ; 
 
 Tell me, sound and tell me 
 Why they laugh so blithely round the land. 
 
 Breezy woodlands, tell me 
 What your boughs are breathing to the air ; 
 
 Tell me, speak and tell me 
 Why they rustle gaily everywhere. 
 
 Joyous song-birds, tell me 
 What your swelling throats desire to say : 
 
 Tell me, sing and tell me 
 Why you never weary all the day. 
 
 'Tis my heart must tell me 
 What the sea is saying, or the grove ; 
 
 Through it Nature tells me, 
 "Earth is beautiful and God is Love."
 
 THE RULING POWER. 145 
 
 THE RULING POWER. 
 
 Men come and go, the nations rise and fall, 
 While evil seems triumphant, good laid low ; 
 An earthquake shatters cities, and men call 
 For help in vain, — at least it seemeth so ; — 
 The arrow shot with true aim from the bow 
 Falls broken, though an idle schoolboy's ball 
 Destroys a priceless vase, and weeds will grow 
 Where flowers droop and die ! Doth Chance rule all? 
 
 The waters move with constant ebb and flow, 
 
 And regularly day succeeds the night ; 
 
 The seeds Spring planted Autumn's hands shall mow, 
 
 And sunny noon evolves from morning light. 
 
 Yes, even now, with all the past in sight, 
 
 Man sees an ordered sequence come and go. 
 
 And Nature loses nothing of her might ; 
 
 Can fickle Chance through all things govern so ? 
 
 10
 
 146 THE RULING POWER. 
 
 No sparrow falleth unobserved, and Chance 
 
 Can have no part in human destiny, 
 
 Though shallow, purblind man, with narrow glance, 
 
 No beautiful Necessity can see. 
 
 Plunged in a gloomy, gruesome reverie. 
 
 He sits and broods amid the whirling dance 
 
 Of long processions, which scarce seem to be 
 
 Within the sphere of Law as they advance. 
 
 Yet in the days to come, when fleeting shows 
 Have vanished, as the dew before the sim. 
 When chilling blast of earth no longer blows, 
 And Time's phantasmal pantomime is done, 
 When doubts and dreams realities have won, 
 And Truth's eternal sunshine melts the snows. 
 Then shall man see an ordered current run, 
 A steadfast purpose, which unaltered grows. 
 
 And standing on that summit he shall gain 
 A comprehensive view of the long way. 
 An outlook such as travellers attain 
 Who reach an Alpine peak at close of day ; 
 Then looking backward, humbly shall he say, 
 " The plan was far too vast ; I tried in vain, 
 With frail and finite eyes, to pierce the grey," 
 So infinitely far extends the plain !
 
 THE RULING POWER. 147 
 
 Then shall he see that paths which skirt the hills, 
 Which cross, and re-cross, in a network fine. 
 Are trending to one mount, and all the rills 
 To one great ocean ; and that Mind Divine 
 Alone can guide 'mid labyrinths that twine 
 Through mazy windings, to the end it wills : 
 The end for which all conscious souls must pine, 
 The triumph of pure Good o'er seeming ills.
 
 148 THE VERY GATE OF HEAVEN, 
 
 THE VERY GATE OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Some days there are, when sky and sea and air 
 Are still and pure and delicately fair, 
 When giant mountains lie like vap'rous clouds 
 On the horizon, and the heat mist shrouds 
 Their rugged sides with veils of tender grey, 
 Till scarce they seem to share the light of day. 
 The nearer hills glow green and brown and gold. 
 And from the scattered houses, fold on fold 
 The curling smoke ascends, like incense burned 
 Upon an altar fire, and roofs are turned 
 To gleaming jewels on the brow of day, 
 Flashing and glitt'ring 'neath the sun's bright ray. 
 The wind forgets to blow, the sun to scorch, 
 And earth appears the hallowed, silent porch, 
 In which men rest a moment, ere they tread 
 The Holy Temple of the sainted dead.
 
 CHANGES. 149 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 Changes are in the air, 
 
 Falling softly like first flakes of the snow, 
 Dropping and melting there, 
 
 Dissolved before one comes their shape to know. 
 
 Changes are in the air, 
 
 Coming quickly o'er thought and word and deed ; 
 Stability is rare, 
 
 Time takes no heed of wounded hearts that bleed. 
 
 Changes are in the air. 
 
 Fast, undefined, but wonderful and strange ; 
 How then shall men prepare 
 
 For that which Ues beyond thought's widest range ? 
 
 How doth the earth prepare 
 
 For coming life and death to her unknown ? 
 By earnest, constant care 
 
 Each day to use its hours before they're flown !
 
 1 5 o A LIFE 'S RE VELA TIONS. 
 
 A LIFE'S REVELATIONS. 
 
 Before a mirror kneeling see a child, 
 Who tries to fathom its mysterious deep ; 
 Unwinking eyes look up at her, and sleep 
 
 Flies far away : her thoughts are sad and wild. 
 
 In fascinated silence down she peers ; 
 
 "Are those the eyes of God ? " she says at last, 
 
 " Shall I into eternal flame be cast, 
 Because I think Him cruel? O, He hears ! " 
 
 For those reflected eyes had seemed to flash ! 
 Unhappy child, 'tis thine own eyes grown dim, 
 And thou hast thine own thoughts transferred to Him. 
 
 A teardrop falls ; she starts to hear it plash. 
 
 The years roll on. A maiden wends her way 
 
 Through flowery meads, along the fresh sea shore. 
 Of God, of heaven and hell she thinks no more, 
 
 Content to live within the present day. 
 
 Tis naught to her that tears fall bitterly, 
 
 That she is ignorant of others woes ; 
 
 If but the sunshine follow where she goes, 
 She cares not where the storm-clouds chance to be.
 
 A LIFE'S REVELATIONS. 151 
 
 '' If God were infinite or even great, 
 
 How soon could He put all the wrong things right. 
 
 Can I, a feeble girl, remove the night, 
 Or change the world, reverse decrees of fate ? 
 
 I can but laugh and love, but dance and sing, 
 
 And feel it joyous to be thus alive; 
 
 For pleasure only will I always strive. 
 And take my chance of all that life may bring." 
 
 Alas, fair girl ! disease hath laid his hand 
 
 On thy frail flesh and marred its youthful bloom : 
 And o'er thy days the shadow of a tomb 
 
 Rests darkly. Rain falls fast upon the land. 
 
 She makes no moan, but day by day she thinks 
 Deep thoughts that surge within unceasingly ; 
 Had she the choice, she now would cease to be, 
 
 And down to Death's dark portal slowly sinks. 
 
 With trembling fingers knocking, yet she fears 
 To hear the warder answer that faint call ; 
 The groaning hinges of the gate appal 
 
 Her shrinking heart ; it opes, and what appears ? 
 
 Not dreary dungeons, gloomy, dank, and cold, 
 But glorious gardens, bathed in sunshine bright ; 
 No shadows follow the celestial light, 
 
 And warmth begins her senses to enfold.
 
 152 A LIFE 'S RE VELA TIONS. 
 
 Fain would she enter in, but soon the door 
 
 Swings back and leaves her leaning 'gainst its bolts ; 
 At that fresh cruelty her soul revolts, 
 
 Yet must she wend her way to earth once more. 
 
 Restored to consciousness, the light seems red 
 Within the walls of the familiar room; 
 And through the ever-growing, deepening gloom. 
 
 Flit floating shapes of those men call " the dead." 
 
 Ah, now she knows there -is not any death. 
 That life is good, that God is not unkind! 
 Each day a stronger faith begins to bind 
 
 The aching body to its flick'ring breath. 
 
 Before her lies a long and thorny road. 
 
 No strength has she to tread the toilsome way, 
 And yet with courage waxing every day 
 
 She stoops to lift her heavy, cumbrous load. 
 
 Beneath its weight at first she almost sinks ; 
 
 Its form is shapeless, unaccustomed, strange; 
 
 But unseen powers their forces round her range, 
 Till she no longer at the dark shape shrinks. 
 
 Then all amazed, she finds the thing she feared 
 Transformed into an angel, strong to save ! 
 Upon his wings she smiles across the grave, 
 
 And finds the darkest spot by hope endeared.
 
 A LIFE '5 HE VELA TIONS. 1 5 3 
 
 The book of fate, so hard to understand 
 
 In brooding childhood, and in thoughtless youth. 
 Lies open, shining with transfigured truth, 
 
 Unlocked at last by Sorrow's strong right hand. 
 
 And as she reads, her heart with ardour burns 
 To flow into the tide of fuller life, 
 And melt to harmony discordant strife, 
 
 Till every obstacle a pathway turns. 
 
 Her hand she lays upon the heart of earth, 
 That seems so still beneath its garments fair, 
 And stooping low to Hsten, lingers there, 
 
 For 'gainst her fingers pulses spring to birth. 
 
 Below the finite lies a form divine ! 
 
 Her eyes are opened, and with glad amaze 
 She sees the veil dissolve before her gaze. 
 
 As sunlight through the mist begins to shine.
 
 154 OF TRIFLES. 
 
 OF TRIFLES. 
 
 Not a joy nor a sorrow in vain 
 Passes onward upon its swift way ; 
 Each is leaving in mirth or in pain, 
 All unnoticed, its mark on the day. 
 
 Not a word nor a look can be lost, 
 Not a step ever taken alone, 
 Though no soul ever count up the cost, 
 And the path never draw forth a groan. 
 
 For the smallest of waves sets afloat 
 Many motions which vibrate afar • 
 And a trill from a nightingale's throat 
 May be felt, — it is said, — in a star. 
 
 How appalling if such be the fact, 
 
 For we all are so careless in speech ; 
 
 And so reckless in many an act. 
 
 And so thoughtless, yes, e'en when we teach.
 
 FULFILLED, YET UNFULFILLED. 155 
 
 FULFILLED, YET UNFULFILLED. 
 (a tale of second-sight.) 
 
 Upon the broad white doorstep of her home, 
 
 Erect, an agbd Highland woman stood, 
 
 And watched the road by which all travellers come 
 
 Bound Northward, past the waving pine tree wood. 
 
 Her eyes grew absent as her thoughts roamed South, 
 
 Unto the son away in distant lands ; 
 
 Her paling cheek, the quiver round her mouth, 
 
 Spoke volumes of distress, like those hard hands 
 
 With their tight grasp upon her apron-strings. 
 
 Those near her stood in silent sympathy. 
 
 They saw her mind was wandering forth to things, 
 
 To distant scenes, her neighbours could not see. 
 
 "He comes," she said at length, with fixed eyes, 
 " He comes across the deep, — I see him now, — 
 And now I lose him." Eagerly she tries 
 To follow a ship's course with knitted brow. 
 Fear, anger, agony, passed like the shades 
 Of fleeting clouds across her dream-rapt face ;
 
 iS6 FULFILLED, YET UNFULFILLED. 
 
 " There, there he is ! I see the dripping blades 
 Of oars, among the rowers is his place." 
 A moment's silence, then again, " He seems 
 Distressed, disfigured, — and ah, worse, — disgraced!" 
 And with a cry she turned from the full beams 
 Of midday sun ; her way she blindly traced 
 To her accustomed place beside the fire, 
 Not one dared then intrude upon her grief. 
 Alone she lived thenceforth, nor seemed to tire, 
 Nor gave herself a moment of relief. 
 
 Weeks lengthened into months, months to a year, 
 And summer once again had clothed the land ; 
 A feeble cry of weakness or of fear 
 Fell on her startled ears, and stilled her hand. 
 "The dreaded day has come at last," she said, 
 " Disgraced, degraded, he comes back to me ; " 
 And as she spoke, her face glowed dusky red 
 With bitter shame and utter misery. 
 Then opening wide the door, upon the stone 
 Where she had stood, foreseen, a year ago, 
 A rag-clothed figure lay. With stifled moan 
 She murmured, "Yes, I knew it would be so." 
 She stooped and lifted that poor wasted lad 
 In her strong arms as though he were a child. 
 " Mother, I am come home, — to die, — 'tis sad, 
 But not the worst," he said, and ah, he smiled ! 
 Then hope awoke within her burthened breast. 
 She laid him gently in his father's place ;
 
 FULFILLED, YET UNFULFILLED. 157 
 
 "Thou hadst been, mother, far, far more distressed 
 Had I brought riches, — and with them disgrace ! " 
 " My lad, my bairn," she cried, " my own good son, 
 How hast thou eased me of my sharpest pain ! 
 And death is naught, for soon my work all done, 
 I know that we shall meet in Heaven again."
 
 158 OF CHOICE. 
 
 OF CHOICE. 
 
 In deep recesses of the human heart 
 The battlefields of life are daily fought ; 
 
 For here and now the ways of Being part, 
 And man decides the struggle in his thought. 
 
 Momentous questions each soul must decide, 
 
 Eternal issues on its answers rest. 
 The scoffing tongue and scornful eye deride 
 
 The truth, yet must endure its searching test. 
 
 Sometimes unconsciously men make their choice, 
 They drift into decision — ah, sad state ! — 
 
 The limbo of the neutral ; and what voice 
 Shall wake them to abhor the idler's fate ? 
 
 No angry Deity debars the base 
 
 From entrance to the Heaven of the pure. 
 The sluggard cannot, cannot win the race; 
 
 Himself his judge, inevitably sure. 
 
 O that some angel with his clarion voice 
 
 Would rouse the nations from their foolish hope 
 
 Vicariously to save themselves. 'Tis choice, 
 And choice alone, decides life's future scope.
 
 THE HAR VEST MO ON. 159 
 
 THE HARVEST MOON. 
 
 How redly through the mists of earth 
 
 Thou risest to thy harvest birth, 
 
 To bring hard toil and banish dearth 
 
 From men away j 
 Thou messenger of work and mirth 
 
 And gath'rings gay. 
 
 The dew is falling all around, 
 On every leaf and blade is found, 
 Yet not the faintest patt'ring sound 
 
 Disturbs the sense ; 
 And over all the level ground 
 
 The fog is dense. 
 
 The full ripe ears of golden wheat 
 Are bending 'neath the dew's soft beat. 
 And here and there late songsters greet 
 
 Thy friendly face, 
 Where gurgling rivers swiftly meet 
 
 In close embrace.
 
 i6o THE HARVEST MOON. 
 
 The cooing pigeon of the wood, 
 
 Hath ceased awhile to seek his food 
 
 In those broad fields where leaning stood 
 
 The early sheaves, 
 And nestles in a restful mood, 
 
 Beneath the leaves. 
 
 The lowing kine are still at last, 
 And their broad shadows, darkly cast 
 Across the meadows, seem more vast 
 
 Than e'er at morn. 
 And timid travellers' hearts beat fast, 
 
 By fear are torn. 
 
 On heathy hills and down the dale, 
 Through balmy breeze or stormy gale, 
 Thou gazest on the varied tale 
 
 Of human life ; 
 Thou hearest the sad heart's wild wail 
 
 Of doubt and strife. 
 
 Across the sea thy soft beams shine, 
 And lay a pathway o'er the brine, 
 To link the earthly and divine, 
 
 That side to this, 
 Till here and there alike are thine, 
 
 And full of bliss.
 
 THE HA R VEST MO ON, 1 6 1 
 
 And happy lovers, pacing late 
 Beside the well-known trysting-gate, 
 Through light and shadow softly prate 
 
 Of love and hope ; 
 Then hand in hand they meditate 
 
 On life's wide scope. 
 
 And ere they part, thy radiance brings 
 To them upon its silvery wings, 
 A vision of diviner things 
 
 Which they may share. 
 And list ! the curfew's call-note rings 
 
 Upon the air. 
 
 Fair orb ! if I could rise as thou 
 Art rising o'er my head just now, 
 And with thy light upon my brow 
 
 Look down below, 
 I dared not live as I live now, 
 
 And judge men so ! 
 
 No cloudy wreath obscures thy light, 
 Above the steaming earth's dark night 
 Thou shinest, waxing still more bright. 
 
 And yet too soon 
 Thou yieldest to the morning's miglu, 
 
 O Harvest Moon ! 
 
 II
 
 i62 THE REALM OF MUSIC. 
 
 THE REALM OF MUSIC. 
 
 In music lies a Fairy-land, 
 
 A timeless, shoreless place ; 
 Beneath ethereal, fadeless trees 
 
 Thoughts airy circles trace. 
 
 Elves play therein mysterious pranks, 
 
 And groping goblins live, 
 Sad changelings sigh for human love, 
 
 Which fairies cannot give. 
 
 Bright fancies dance with soundless tread, 
 And hopes have no fixed size ; 
 
 While e'en th' invisible is seen, 
 And pleasure is surprise ! 
 
 Waves surge and break in melody, 
 
 And cascades fall with song. 
 The hills and dales can speak aloud, 
 
 Voices to them belong. 
 
 And all are welcome there whose souls 
 
 Nurse wishes to fulfil. 
 This Fairy-land has always been. 
 
 And is existing still.
 
 MY RING. 163 
 
 MY RING. 
 
 Within the plain gold ring I wear 
 
 My story I can read : 
 A few poor words are graven there, 
 
 Yet they are all I need. 
 
 Above the words a vacant space 
 
 Tells of a childhood gay, 
 Of all the hopes and dreams which grace 
 
 A maiden's joyous way. 
 
 " June 4th of eighteen eighty-eight," 
 
 That is not much to say, 
 But my whole future is the freight 
 
 Of that eventful day. 
 
 And now I add a few words more — 
 Thy birthday, boy, that's all ! 
 
 A date which means new joys in store. 
 Or griefs, — which shall befall ? 
 
 Beneath these lines another space, 
 
 Untouched by graver's art. 
 Who knows the story which that place 
 
 Shall write upon my heart ?
 
 1 64 A DAY-DREAM. 
 
 A DAY-DREAM. 
 
 A MAIDEN Stood beside a purling brook, 
 And at her feet its rippling tresses shook ; 
 Her heart awaking from its childish sleep, 
 With trembling ecstasy began to leap. 
 The birds were calling, calling, o'er the stream, 
 And myriad insects danced upon the beam 
 Which fell across her path along the grass. 
 "O river," sang she, "thou dost ever pass 
 To bring fresh water ere the old is gone ; 
 And yet I love thee, though thou flowest on. 
 Would I might follow this new wave I see 
 Dash down the mountain side so merrily." 
 
 Her eyes grew dream}-, steady, dark, and still ; 
 
 Her feet seemed drawn along against her will, 
 
 Now swiftly, and now slowly, as the wave 
 
 The signal, by its rushing, staying gave ; 
 
 Until a booming sound fell on her ears, 
 
 And then a treacherous calmness roused her fears. 
 
 Constrained to follow, where great boulders stood 
 
 In an aggressive and defiant mood. 
 
 Dividing the broad stream, which parting, roared, 
 
 And gasping, down a rocky slope was poured.
 
 A DAY-DREAM. 165 
 
 To leap at last into a great abyss, 
 
 The maiden heard the water's angry hiss, 
 
 And saw its eddies swirl between the walls 
 
 Of rugged stone, through which perforce it falls. 
 
 The dashing spray obscured awhile her sight, 
 But through the dark ravine soon shone a light ; 
 And thither ran the water with a rush, 
 Regardless of the briar, tree, or bush. 
 She followed still with throbbing, aching heart. 
 Her feet on those sharp rocks began to smart ; 
 An opening gained, the sun shone through, to pour 
 His warmth upon her shivering flesh once more. 
 This danger past, she kept her way with ease, 
 Until again the birds called from the trees 
 Familiar notes that forced her tears to flow, 
 For always onward, onward, must she go. 
 
 The water soon forgot its dreadful haste, 
 And lingered lovingly along the waste 
 Of moorland, list'ning to the plover's note, 
 And toying with the burnished trout which float 
 And dart and flash from stone to stone, then leap 
 To glitter in the sunshine, and plunge deep 
 Into the sullen pools that here and there, 
 Their inky garments in weird silence wear. 
 The moorland left at last, far, far behind. 
 Through well-tilled fields the growing stream must 
 find
 
 i66 A DA Y-DREAM. 
 
 A widening pathway, fed on every side 
 
 By runlets, added to the swelling tide. 
 
 Serenely quiet then its stately pace, 
 
 Until the mill-dam reached, it swerved to race 
 
 Along a narrow channel, there to turn 
 
 A mighty wheel. 
 
 Among the springing fern 
 The maiden waited to observe its task, 
 And fain had rested there, but dared not ask, 
 For onward, ever onward, like a fate. 
 The river ran, and would not pause or wait. 
 Past verdant lawns and stately mansions tall, 
 Past forest edges and a graveyard wall. 
 Past scattered houses, hamlets, a small town, 
 And under bridges whose dark shadows frown, 
 All day she wandered ; till the evening shade 
 Began to deepen, into night to fade. 
 And then great, glaring eyes gleamed through the 
 
 dark. 
 And belching chimneys threw their fiery mark 
 Across the vault of ever-darkening hue, 
 And stars came trembling one by one to view. 
 Vast, shapeless boats, with lights on each dull prow, 
 Passed phantom-like, and furrowed the stream's 
 
 brow. 
 She stood at length upon a massy quay, 
 And ah, what awful sights were there to see ! 
 Down narrow lanes came foul, debauched reek, 
 " Can these be Women who in curses speak ?
 
 A DAY-DREAM. 167 
 
 And children these," she thought, "who scream and 
 
 fight, 
 Regardless of the darkness of the night?" 
 
 She lingered there. A stirring at her heart 
 
 Seemed bidding her to stay and do her part 
 
 In the redemption of the world from sin ; 
 
 But from the river rose a startling din. 
 
 The signal-horns of vessels on its breast ; 
 
 And oh, the river would not, could not rest ! 
 
 Past factories and gaunt, bare ribs of ships, 
 
 It glided, glided, till from moaning lips 
 
 An accent new seemed on the air to float, 
 
 So faint, its presence she could scarcely note ; 
 
 But soon the river in uneven waves 
 
 Chattered its teeth and groaned as through (la:k 
 
 caves ; 
 The light buoys danced upon the broken sheen 
 Of that rough surface, and the stars were seen 
 Serene and still above, but there below- 
 Tossed up and down, in constant ebb and flow, 
 The river halted, — seemed e'en to turn back, 
 And straining ship ropes caught its floating wrack. 
 
 She stood amazed to see where she had come ! 
 She called unto the river ; he was dumb : 
 But other voices sounded from the strand. 
 First far away, and then quite near at hand ;
 
 1 68 A DAY-DREAAI. 
 
 A salty breath lay moist upon her face, 
 And very solemn seemed the meeting place, 
 Where messengers from earth's fair scenes first greet 
 The ocean waves, as they so wildly beat 
 Against the rocky walls which bound the land, 
 Embrace, and ebb together, hand in hand. 
 
 The maiden sobbed, " Is this the end of pain. 
 Have I come here, so far, and come in vain ? 
 Are rivers lost when once they reach the sea ? 
 If so, 'twere better, better not to be ! " 
 
 " Be still, wild heart," the ocean seemed to say, 
 '' I take this mountain water far away ; 
 No longer fresh and shallow as of yore, 
 But deep and strong it beats a farther shore. 
 It carries in its heart the sacred past 
 Unchangeable, which must for ever last, 
 And joyfully flows out to learn once more 
 The secrets which the Future keeps in store."
 
 THE SISTERS. 169 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 Two children kneel at eventide, 
 " Our Father," trustfully to say ; 
 
 The mother with a tender pride 
 Still lingers near to hear them pray. 
 
 Two maidens at God's altar stand 
 To take for life a solemn vow : 
 
 This goes henceforth with ring on hand. 
 And that with bandage on her brow. 
 
 Two women at an open grave 
 Re<jret a mother's shortened life ; 
 
 Then each to each her blessing gave, 
 The saintly maid and happy wife. 
 
 Two shining forms at Heaven-gate 
 Are sore amazed once more to meet. 
 
 In silence, hand in hand, they wait 
 
 For words of welcome, strong and sweet. 
 
 The guardian of the blest espies 
 
 The sisters as, with awe-struck hearts, 
 
 They enter there : his gentle eyes 
 Look kindly, and all fear departs.
 
 1 7° THE SISTERS. 
 
 Then thrilling voices on their ears, 
 Like sound of many waters, swell ; 
 
 And soon the angel-mother steers 
 
 Her course to those she loved so well. 
 
 She leads them both with gentle force, 
 Before the Heavenly Father's seat. 
 
 God knows no better, and no worse. 
 In those two women at His feet. 
 
 " Ye faithful, welcome ! ye have won 
 The victory in earth's long strife ; 
 
 Rest now awhile ; what ye have done 
 Hath paved the way to fuller life. 
 
 " One talent ye have kept so bright. 
 That ten shall soon become your care. 
 
 Enter, O children, into light, 
 
 And work once more in this pure air."
 
 A DAY IN JUNE. 
 
 A DAY IN JUNE. 
 
 (bamborough.) 
 
 A JOY it is to-day to live and look 
 Upon this perfect page of Nature's book; 
 The faintest haze of heat lies o'er the fields, 
 Afar the smith his mighty hammer wields, 
 And that sharp ring of iron struck with skill, 
 The air with its grand note of toil doth fill. 
 Some happy children play upon the walls 
 Of th' ancient Castle, which no more appals 
 The stranger as he nears its massy keep : 
 No clouds of war around its casements creep, 
 But gentle Charity, the gift of God, 
 Hath her abode where mailed men once trod. 
 The grassy links are whispering to the breeze, 
 A few white gulls are floating o'er the seas ; 
 The shining crescent of an ample bay 
 From point to point absorbs the sun's bright ray, 
 And where the ebbing tide leaves margins bright, 
 The fleecy clouds reflect their vaporous light. 
 The roseate tern calls loudly from an isle, 
 Upon which wavelets wash with winning smile ; 
 A lighthouse lifts its lantern to the sky, 
 And round its summit the wild sea-birds fly ;
 
 172 A DAY IN JUNE. 
 
 No need to-day for its revolving glare, 
 
 The sea its calmest, purest garb doth wear. 
 
 A day of days this daughter fair of June, 
 
 Whose evening shadows deepen all too soon ; 
 
 Yet where she smiled, each restless heart hath found 
 
 Its sorrow sanctified, and its joy crowned.
 
 THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY. 173 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY. 
 
 The strain at first falls faintly on the ear, 
 
 Through long dark vistas of the storied past ; 
 
 And one by one the stars of hope appear, 
 Their feeble rays upon the night to cast. 
 
 The secret whispered tremblingly in fear, 
 Mooted in terror of the powers that be, 
 
 Gathers disciples from lands far and near, 
 And swells into a song of Liberty! 
 
 The leader with his strong, prophetic voice, 
 Thunders his warnings at both priest and king; 
 
 Draws thousands after him, who know no choice, 
 But do his will, and learn his songs to sing. 
 
 The reckless, thoughtless, to the standard flock, 
 Disturb the solemn tread of marching feet: 
 
 On sacred ground tumultuous dances rock 
 With a resistless, ceaseless, rhythmic beat. 
 
 The banner floating gaily on the breeze, 
 Attracts the idlers from the peopled plain ; 
 
 The earnest soldier heeds them not, he sees 
 
 The snow-capped summit which he hopes to gain.
 
 174 THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY. 
 
 The toil increases, careless followers turn 
 
 Unto the sheltered pastures whence they came \ 
 
 The resolute battalions now must earn 
 
 Success and praise, or failure and foul blame. 
 
 The ranks are thinning fast ; for pain and death 
 Run riot 'mid that sacrificing band; 
 
 But each cheers on with his last failing breath 
 The others, saying, "Triumph is at hand !" 
 
 So onward still, and upward, through the dark 
 They toil beneath the pitying, waning stars ; 
 
 Until along the mountain-line they mark 
 The blackness breaking into streaks and bars. 
 
 'Tis won at last ! Upon a dizzy height 
 
 The way-worn wanderers cry, " O Victory ! " 
 
 For in the distant East they see a light, 
 The dawning of a world-wide Liberty !
 
 ESCAPED! 175 
 
 ESCAPED ! 
 (song.) 
 
 I LAY my dearest in the grave, 
 And tears dim strangers' eyes. 
 
 They say thou'rt dead ! They suiely rave- 
 Pure goodness never dies. 
 
 The earthly falls to earth again ; 
 
 But thou wert not of clay. 
 Thy body, racked and rent with pain, 
 
 Hath let thee slip away. 
 
 The outward form lies there, 'tis true. 
 
 But thou art living yet ! 
 I deck thy grave with flowers, not rue, 
 
 No tear my eyes shall wet.
 
 176 DREAMS. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 We dream and then we do, to dream once more ; 
 
 We think, and from the thought the deed proceeds ; 
 
 And ere the world was formed, some mind must needs 
 Have pictured Chaos ceasing from her roar. 
 
 The dreamer, once reviled, becomes at length 
 The prophet of a later, wiser age, 
 And every dreamer turning a new page, 
 
 Is adding to the truth a store of strength. 
 
 To-morrow with its acts is lying furled 
 In floating visions of the present day ; 
 Fruition gained, new aspirations play, 
 
 And to a fancied future thought is whirled. 
 
 For fancy is far larger than the fact ; 
 No kiss is half so sweet upon the lip. 
 No pain so bitter in its fiercest grip, 
 
 As when despair or hope were free to act.
 
 DREAMS. 177 
 
 The yearning heart, the patient, toihng brain, 
 In love no man can touch, finds purest joy. 
 In knowledge none can see, a life's employ. 
 
 Why love or think, save some dreamed end to gain ? 
 
 Man were not man without these beaconing gleams 
 Of earth transfigured, or of Heaven near. 
 The prisoned soul were dead and buried here, 
 
 Save for these unsubstantial, fleeting dreams. 
 
 12
 
 178 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 We grasp at shadows in our early youth, 
 
 And call the phantoms perfect, full-orbed Truth. 
 
 We comprehend, — we say, — its rounded whole, 
 
 All that there is in earth or sky or soul ; 
 
 But as warm breath disturbs the chilly air 
 
 The frost flowers fade ; nor can our utmost care 
 
 Rebuild them on the window where but now 
 
 They seemed so solid : then in rage we vow 
 
 That naught eternal is, naught worth the search, 
 
 We cling, we mortals, to a narrow perch 
 
 Above a great abyss where Chaos dwells. 
 
 A sob of bitter disappointment tells 
 
 Of hopes extinguished, dreams quenched in despair, 
 
 And then contemptuously we 'gin prepare 
 
 Short life to spend on pleasure's giddy round, 
 
 To be at last upon its treadmill found.
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 179 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 II. 
 
 Matured, we laugh at those first, fooHsh dreams, 
 
 The Truth,— we say, — comes but in broken gleams: 
 
 The world were very poor and mean indeed 
 
 If all it held were semblance of a weed. 
 
 For now we see that far beyond the home. 
 
 Beyond the earth and sky's o'er-arching dome, 
 
 Stretch out infinities of space, and world 
 
 On world is 'fore our wondering eyes unfurled. 
 
 So much there is to know, then let us keep 
 
 In this enclosure where we eat and sleep ; 
 
 Here be content, that we may never stray 
 
 Into the wilderness to lose our way. 
 
 The fields are wide, their beaten tracks are fair, 
 
 The hedges high and balmy too the air, 
 
 Let others, — if they will, — explore the sea 
 
 And plumb the depths of Truth's infinity.
 
 i8o THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 III. 
 
 We sow and reap, and garner in our store 
 
 Of that we chose, and then we sigh for more ; 
 
 Chill winter comes with furrowed brow of care, 
 
 And storm-stripped, swaying arms all gaunt and bare ; 
 
 He rudely rends the wall of quickset hedge. 
 
 And lo ! on every towering mountain-ledge 
 
 Lie lines of freshly fallen, glistening snow, 
 
 While bitter breezes swiftly come and go 
 
 Across the pastures, and a frosty rime 
 
 Falls on loved heads beneath the touch of time, 
 
 Till one by one they shrivel and decay, 
 
 And life runs slowly into death away. 
 
 Unsheltered now, and standing all alone, 
 
 Contentment gone, the soul begins to moan 
 
 That joy and beauty have a reign so short, 
 
 That Truth through summer days has not been sought.
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. i8i 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The bounds of Time are passed, but Space remains 
 
 To bind the Soul in her enormous chains ; 
 
 Once more aspiring it fares forth in quest 
 
 Of Truth's completed circle, nor can rest 
 
 AVith wheeling flight and ever greater speed 
 
 It cleaves its way. Soon now, — it says, — indeed 
 
 That end to this will join, and I shall see 
 
 Fair Truth in her august entirety. 
 
 But ah ! the meeting ends spring far apart, 
 
 And upward, onward, must th' amazed soul start ! 
 
 At last it learns one wondrous fact and true, 
 
 On which hang issues vast and not a few ; 
 
 It looks above, below, beyond, around, 
 
 And not a trace of any end is found ! 
 
 No ORB is Truth, perfect, compact, complete. 
 
 But SPIRAL, springing up fresh heights to greet !
 
 i82 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH. 
 
 Dismayed, the panting soul is flung alolt, 
 
 Time's hour-glass gone, now Space her robe has doffed 
 
 No Time, no Space, no boundaries are left, 
 
 The spirit of its cherished aim bereft 
 
 To see the whole of that it saw in part. 
 
 Poised quiv'ring, fears and quakes afresh to start 
 
 It almost longs that it had never been, 
 
 So infinite the vista it has seen ! 
 
 Sweet Hope of plumage is divested too, 
 
 How shall her feeble wings their strength renew. 
 
 To bring the failing courage fresh rebound ? 
 
 Ah, list ! on undulating waves of sound 
 
 A soft yet piercing voice thrills through the air, 
 
 " Upward and onward. Truth lies ever there."
 
 THE AGED FISHER WOMAN. 183 
 
 THE AGED FISHERWOMAN. 
 (•'beside the sea.") 
 
 Nay, I am never lonely here, 
 The waves are always company ; 
 
 And though I sometimes shed a tear, 
 I'm happiest beside the sea. 
 
 Well yes, I'm old, the cliffs are steep, 
 That's just as true as true can be ; 
 
 But then I know I could not sleep 
 Without the hushing of the sea. 
 
 And why I love the sea so much ? 
 
 It's everything, my dear, to me, 
 The only thing death cannot touch ; 
 
 I've always lived beside the sea. 
 
 When I was quite a little child, 
 
 I used to play about that quay ; 
 And there, where those great stones are piled, 
 
 I met my husband, home from sea.
 
 1 84 THE AGED FISHER WOMAN. 
 
 I often wake at night and hear 
 
 Him calling lustily to me, 
 " All safe, my lass." Why should I fear ? 
 
 He always called so from the sea. 
 
 The ocean cruel, do you say ? 
 
 Ah well, I'm used to it, you see ; 
 And I'll stay by it, if I may, 
 
 I want to die beside the sea !
 
 AJV A UTUMN MORNING. 1 8 5 
 
 AN AUTUMN MORNING. 
 
 A SOFT grey mist lies on the distant hills, 
 A heavy line of fog the valley fills ; 
 The luscious grass is bending 'neath the dew, 
 And jewelled silver webs exposed to view 
 Extend from blade to blade, from flower to flower, 
 Then through the dimness of the morning hour, 
 The cottage homes send up their curling wreaths 
 Of thin blue smoke, to drift where bending sheaves 
 Shake off" the pearly drops from hanging ears, 
 And lo ! above the pines the sun appears 
 To wake deep blushes on each mountain side. 
 And throw the gates of morning open wide. 
 The whirr of reaping steals upon the air, 
 A few late songsters twitter here and there, 
 Till from the west a balmy zephyr springs 
 To bring full day upon its whispering wings.
 
 1 86 NOT FALLEN, BUT E VOL VI NG. 
 
 NOT FALLEN, BUT EVOLVING. 
 
 No, ours is not a fallen state 
 From which we slowly rise again ; 
 'Twas growing mind did first create 
 Fair Paradise undimmed by pain. 
 From lowliest forms of life and thought 
 Has man evolved to that he is. 
 By labour has each stage been bought, 
 And conquest of dark mysteries. 
 
 At first man roamed unclad and wild, 
 Yielded to passion like the beasts. 
 Had not the knowledge of a child. 
 And gorged himself at his rude feasts. 
 Then thousands died of want and cold. 
 And maidens lived a slavish life. 
 Fierce men were cruel to the old, 
 And superstitious fear was rife. 
 
 The savage knew not tenderness, 
 But hunted, fished, then ate and slept. 
 No other's wrongs would he redress, 
 But stealthily for vengeance crept. 
 Unnumbered ages thus he roamed. 
 And learned a little here and there, 
 Until in cups the fruit juice foamed, 
 And fire subdued the chilly air.
 
 NOT FALLEN, BUT EVOLVING. 187 
 
 From families evolved the tribe 
 
 Through swiftly passing centuries, 
 
 And tribal safety was the bribe 
 
 By which man learned his kind to please. 
 
 So ever toward a higher plane 
 
 Civilisation worked its way, 
 
 Till each strove less for selfish gain, 
 
 And sympathy began to play. 
 
 As brother, then as husband, friend. 
 He lived and worked for other lives ; 
 And tribal customs upward tend. 
 The State, with equal laws arrives. 
 Not history, but prophecy. 
 Is perfect peace and innocence, 
 Man climbing up unceasingly, 
 Not sliding into decadence. 
 
 We know to what he has attained, 
 How quickly he is rising still, 
 Compared with the slow progress gained 
 In ages past ; but not until 
 The State is merged in world-wide bond 
 Of Brotherhood and mutual love, 
 Shall Eden's glades and groves be found, 
 The types of heaven, man's home above.
 
 1 88 TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Through many shadows with unfaltering feet 
 
 I walked as evening fell, 
 And watched the fragrant blossoms fade and fleet 
 
 That I had loved so well j 
 Recalling bygone days when inward calm 
 Distilled its healing dew, and shed its balm 
 
 On painful hours, 
 While friendly faces hovered near, to greet 
 
 The faihng powers, 
 With sweet assurances that naught can harm 
 
 A life like ours. 
 
 The saddened soul sent forth no moan, resigned 
 
 To bear its heavy cross ; 
 At faded joys not once the heart repined, 
 
 Endured each crowding loss 
 With quiet strength sent down to direst need; 
 Fresh thoughts formed pathways for a spirit freed 
 
 From every worldly care, 
 That subtile rapture it might surely find 
 
 In clearer, purer air.
 
 TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. 189 
 
 But ah, that gift of peace 
 Has fled from active days of strenuous toil, 
 
 And dreary sounds increase 
 Around the trodden way, my steps to foil, 
 
 For when I would do well, 
 
 Such threatening billows swell, 
 That hope, dismayed, dares not her wings to try, 
 And aspiration withers to a sigh. 
 
 Where gentle accents fell 
 The feverish lips cry out in agony. 
 
 Dost Thou, O God, judge men by what they are, 
 
 Or by the deep desire 
 That finds no outlet through the cramping bar 
 Of adverse circumstance, too strong by far 
 
 For weaklings who aspire 
 
 To bear a holy fire 
 Within the breast, consuming lower things. 
 Dull embers kindle not, and failure stings 
 
 To waiHngs of desire. 
 
 Desire to leave this ceaseless round of strife, 
 
 And lie in childlike rest 
 
 On some serener breast ; 
 To feel a soothing stillness steal through life. 
 
 Till quiet comes to cure
 
 igo TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 The passion and the petulance so rife, 
 
 With accents strong and sure, 
 Upon the heart indelibly impressed, 
 That it may sufifer action's searching test, 
 Yet to the end endure ! 
 
 O soul, be of good cheer. 
 Look back upon the path thy feet have trod. 
 
 And cease, weak heart, to fear 
 The stinging of the purifying rod. 
 
 Thou hast borne agony, 
 
 Bear now activity. 
 And though the goal be hidden from thy sight. 
 The lamp of duty shall illume the night. 
 
 A Father leadeth thee 
 Unto the dawning of Eternal Light.
 
 WHENCE 1 191 
 
 WHENCE? 
 
 Whence come these fancies flocking through the mind, 
 Trooping and thronging faster every day; 
 
 And whence the glamour gUttering to bHnd 
 Glad eyes to effort on the chosen way ? 
 
 Whence come these memories that dimly rise 
 
 Through daily duties of an active life ; 
 And whence the shrinking, lingering to apprise 
 
 Sad souls that evil influence is rife ? 
 
 Whence comes this sudden peace when all seems dark, 
 Steadfast within when grief is at its worst ; 
 
 And whence comes hope that like a hidden spark, 
 Relights the embers, dull and cold at first ? 
 
 Whence comes this life we feel but never see, 
 Which permeates creation to its verge ; 
 
 And whence the soul that ever longs to be 
 
 Far from the shore where Time's rough shallows 
 surge ?
 
 192 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 'TwAS Christmas Eve, a filmy veil of snow 
 Lay o'er the fields, on every hilly ledge ; 
 
 The air was still, yet ever seemed to go 
 In sighs along the whitened river edge. 
 
 The stars were shining brightly overhead, 
 But all the east was draped in sullen grey • 
 
 More snow was coming, and my path still led 
 O'er hill and dale, a lonely, dreary way. 
 
 Ere long, upon a sheltered plateau near, 
 An old and straggling farmhouse I espied, 
 
 And soon determined thitherward to steer ; 
 
 'Twere strange, I thought, if shelter were denied. 
 
 For up these dales beat hospitable hearts 
 In which suspicion finds the smallest place ; 
 
 I loved to rove in unfrequented parts, 
 And study every quaint, determined face. 
 
 To rest awhile beside the fire I asked. 
 
 And was invited in most heartily. 
 Then all the house contained was quickly tasked 
 
 To make a truly welcome guest of me.
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 193 
 
 The kitchen glowed in ruddy, leaping flame, 
 
 The dogs looked up with doubtful, watchful gaze, 
 
 But patting them the farmer spoke each name. 
 And stirred the fire afresh to make a blaze. 
 
 A mighty cheese soon stood upon the board, 
 
 With cakes and ale, old-fashioned Christmas cheer ; 
 
 My plate was by my host most amply stored, 
 
 And then he said, "To-night you'd best stay here. 
 
 " It looks as if 'twould be a heavy fall. 
 
 And you might lose your way up these wild dales ; 
 You're very welcome, sir, to one and all, 
 
 We're rough, but farmhouse ration rarely fails." 
 
 We lit our pipes, and smoking chatted long 
 Of places and the people round about ; 
 
 In this man's life that something had gone wrong 
 I knew without the shadow of a doubt. 
 
 " You wonder," said he, " we're so quiet here 
 O' Christmas Eve." I felt he wished to talk ; 
 
 And then I saw slip down a furiive tear, 
 Though he arose across the floor to walk. 
 
 'a' 
 
 He looked outside, then settled down again ; 
 
 " It was my wedding-day to-day," he said, 
 " And somehow marriage brought her naught but pain, 
 
 She was a frail, wee, town-bred lass I wed. 
 
 13
 
 194 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 " It's lonely here no doubt for town-bred folk, 
 But she was brave enough and settled down." 
 
 His hands were clasped and trembling as he spoke, 
 To stop the tears he almost seemed to frown. 
 
 "Ten years ago it was I brought her home. 
 And she seemed failing like a longish while ; 
 
 But when the little lad was born, she came 
 To like the place ; 'twas nice to see her smile. 
 
 " She loved that bairn o' hers with all her heart, 
 And couldn't bear him ever out of sight; 
 
 But I made up my mind the two must part 
 To let her have her proper sleep at night. 
 
 " Why how I talk ! to make the story short, 
 It's just three years ago this very Eve 
 
 We lost him ; every place around was sought 
 Both far and near, as you may well believe. 
 
 "It was a wild and bitter night, but still 
 
 The Waits had managed t' get as far as here ; 
 
 They couldn't struggle further up the hill, 
 
 But stayed and sang a bit, in hope 'twould clear. 
 
 " But 'stead of that it got far worse, and they 
 Set off quite late to make their homeward road. 
 
 I think I never saw the sky so grey, 
 
 The air was loaded, and all night it snowed.
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. . 195 
 
 Said I to th' wife, ' It's late, so don't you go 
 Disturbing little Robbie in his sleep.' 
 She didn't like the order, that I know, 
 And when I think of it, I can't but weep. 
 
 *' I scarce can tell you, sir, how we all felt 
 When Christmas morning came ; for do you see 
 
 If I'd not stopped her, she'd have gone and knelt 
 To kiss him in his little bed. Ah me! 
 
 " Well, he was gone, and all that e'er we could. 
 Was done to find him; need I tell you that? 
 
 We searched the sheds and garden, yards and wood; 
 My conscience gnawed me like a half-starved rat. 
 
 "For though poor Alice never once couiplained, 
 I had been hard with her, sometimes unkind 
 
 About the lad ; her awful silence pained 
 Me worse than any scolding could, I mind. 
 
 " One night she'd been asleep a bit, I think, 
 
 Sitting just over there beside the fire. 
 And jumped up with a cry that made me shrink; 
 
 The veins upon her brow stood out like wire. 
 
 " 'I see him lying 'ncatli a heap of snow' 
 She sobbed at last, 'and all around is dark ; 
 
 It seems to me a place I ought to know. 
 Yet nothing can I see the spot to mark.
 
 196 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 " ' It looks to me just like a great square grave, 
 It's standing all alone, and seems quite high.' 
 
 Of course, I fancied she'd begun to rave. 
 And if we didn't find the boy, she'd die. 
 
 '"Twas getting on by that to New Year's night. 
 And every day snow fell, and great drifts grew ; 
 
 About the bairn we got no hint of light, 
 And that he must be dead by then, I knew. 
 
 " My wife, poor thing, she wandered round the place, 
 And never seemed to sit a moment still ; 
 
 I can't forget her pale and wretched face, 
 It haunts me, sir ; I think it always will. 
 
 " I'm hard enough at bearing most of pain, 
 But that was like a fire within my breast. 
 
 I would not live that dreadful week again 
 
 For all the world. She couldn't, couldn't rest. 
 
 "Well, I was working late out in the fold 
 
 On New Year's night ; and there rose such a shriek ! 
 
 The very thought on't turns me deadly cold, 
 
 She'd found him, sir, and hadn't power to speak. 
 
 "Her dream had lingered always in her mind, 
 And she had grown quite sure that he was near ; 
 
 And there, in pulling up a spare room blind 
 The very heap she'd seen lay 'fore her clear.
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 197 
 
 " 'Twas just outside a sort of long glass door, 
 His fav'rite place in summer time for play, 
 
 His rabbits lived there when 'twas warm, and store 
 Of flowers in pots he liked, to make it gay. 
 
 " 'Twas over a bit glass place I had built 
 For Alice ; she'd a love for pretty things, 
 
 And working there she often used to lilt 
 The bonnie songs a gentle lassie sings. 
 
 "Although it's high, we knew 'twas safe enough, 
 It's railed all round, the laddie too was short ; 
 
 Besides, he wasn't one was ever rough, 
 He was your pretty, clinging, quiet sort. 
 
 " And there she'd found him nestled closely in 
 Beside the empty hutches ; and the snow 
 
 On such a place is never very thin ; 
 It gathers there, and doesn't easy go. 
 
 *'You wonder may-be none of us should hear 
 The lad, who must have cried, that's very sure ; 
 
 You must remember all of us were here 
 
 With th' Waits. Ah, after-thinking doesn't cure ! 
 
 *' It's not the sort of house a man would choose ; 
 
 It's rambling, and a bairn might scream his last 
 At yon far side, and it would be no use. 
 
 With all these doors and windows shut, and fast.
 
 198 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 
 
 " His mother she lived on until the wall 
 
 Behind his death-place blossomed out again ; 
 
 And then she joined him ; it would e'en appal 
 A stranger if I told him all her pain. 
 
 "The folk around keep saying, ' Take a wife 
 To make the place a bit more cheery-like.' 
 
 But no ; I mean to work while I have life, 
 But new roots in this world I'll never strike. 
 
 "There's nothing that could bring forgetfulness, 
 And faults like mine are best to live alone ; 
 
 For I was cruel to her, nothing less ; 
 
 You cannot make a pearl out of a stone. 
 
 " I couldn't bear to hear a loud-voiced wench ; 
 
 And I'm by far too coarse for such as she, 
 — Alice, I mean, — and it would be a wrench 
 
 To see her pretty things touched carelessly." 
 
 The fitful firelight flickered round and round 
 The rugged farmer's bowed and grizzled head ; 
 
 It seemed to me a holy halo bound 
 
 By sorrow, in remembrance of the dead. 
 
 " What tragedy, presented on the boards, 
 Was ever half so sad," I thought, " as this ? 
 
 Each haunting memory the strong man hoards, 
 As lovers treasure up a loved one's kiss."
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY. 199 
 
 He thought himself unworthy, hard and cold, 
 And yet 'twere hard to find a heart so true. 
 
 Such love as his is neither bought, nor sold, 
 To gain it is a conquest known to few. 
 
 His loneliness had left him too much time 
 To brood o'er all the sad, unchanging past ; 
 
 But steadfast hearts like that have depths sublime, 
 Which must be something great, or good, at last.
 
 2 00 LORD ARMSTRONG. 
 
 LORD ARMSTRONG. 
 
 True son of the strong, patient North, thy name 
 
 Is noised abroad with an unsulHed fame ; 
 
 Upon thy native place 'tis graven deep 
 
 Where glowing furnace fires their night-watch keep ; 
 
 In rugged characters of constant toil 
 
 'Tis written large ; but on the grateful soil, 
 
 In finest tracery of verdant green 
 
 To many eyes it is more plainly seen, 
 
 For at thy word the waste a garden grows, 
 
 Forgets the briar to bring forth the rose ; 
 
 And frowning hills, erst desolate and bare, 
 
 A garment now of fairest foliage wear. 
 
 With generous hand thou fill'st the furrows full, 
 
 That other lives a harvest fair may cull. 
 
 In thee a steady fire of genius burns, 
 
 Translating into practice all it learns ; 
 
 In arts of war, and peace, art thou renowned, 
 
 And with the love of thousands thou art crowned ; 
 
 While there are many more who know thee not, 
 
 Who yet should thank thee that their sordid lot 
 
 Is sweeter grown ; set free from squalid streets. 
 
 They roam at will, where Art with Nature meets.
 
 LORD ARMSTRONG. 201 
 
 Their happy faces, bright with glad amaze, 
 Are all unconsciously thy truest praise. 
 That help is thine, which only upward lifts ; 
 Thy gains have fruited into princely gifts. 
 Apart from faction and from party strife, 
 Thou liv'st thine own consistent, noble life.
 
 202 PICTURES OF A LIFE. 
 
 PICTURES OF A LIFE. 
 
 A SPORTIVE child with eyes of azure hue, 
 
 With merry laugh and feet that never tire, 
 To whom a narrow street is a wide view, 
 
 A string upon two reeds an angel's lyre ; 
 
 The glowing heart of its own nursery fire 
 A fairy-land, which strangely doth renew 
 
 Each day its wondrous cave and magic spire. 
 O happy girl, was ever life like you ? 
 
 A maiden now with flowing, shining hair 
 
 And smiling lips, looks out beneath her hand ; 
 She sees a glorious daylight dawning where 
 
 In giant undulations mountains stand. 
 
 And ah ! she yearns to join the white-winged band 
 That cleaves its way to yonder rarer air; 
 
 For here and now fulfil not her demand, 
 "Give me," she says, " life's glittering crown to wear." 
 
 A woman weeps upon a wave-washed shore, 
 
 Her pale lips pressed together, straight with pain : 
 
 The mighty ocean, with a threatening roar. 
 Breaks at her feet. She gazes o'er the main,
 
 PICTURES OF A LIFE. 203 
 
 Determined still her distant goal to gain. 
 " On this side, O my God, naught can restore 
 
 My failing strength ; here have I toiled in vain. 
 Is this the end? An answer I implore." 
 
 A silent form upon a narrow bed, 
 
 With closed eyes and raiment purest white ; 
 
 Her work all done, her burning words all said, 
 She rests at last. One taper's glimmering light 
 Illumes the yawning blackness of the night, 
 
 And weaves a golden halo round her head. 
 Ah ! what is this that breaks upon her sight ? 
 
 A vision of new life; and she has fled !
 
 204 SNO W IN SPRING. 
 
 SNOW IN SPRING. 
 
 The Snow is falling, falling, 
 And dense grey clouds obscure the risen sun ; 
 
 While birds are calling, calling, 
 " Too soon, too soon our building was begun." 
 
 The hills are fleeting, fleeting 
 Away from sight, though yesterday so clear; 
 
 And lambs are bleating, bleating, 
 Though nestling to the anxious mother near. 
 
 The earth is sighing, sighing 
 For that embrace in which so late it lay : 
 
 Frail blossoms dying, dying, 
 Regret the brevity of beauty's day. 
 
 The day is waning, waning, 
 And the blue hill-tops kiss not the blue of sky ; 
 
 Deep dales are plaining, plaining. 
 With muffled wail and soft, distressful cry. 
 
 But see ; a gleaming, gleaming, 
 As sunsliine struggles faintly through its shroud ; 
 
 And soon Spring beaming, beaming 
 With happy smiles, forgets the passing cloud.
 
 ''OUT OF MUCH TRIB ULA TION." 2 c 5 
 
 "OUT OF MUCH TRIBULATION." 
 
 Distressing disappointments fall too fast 
 
 Upon the heart bowed down with weight of care, 
 
 And load on load upon the soul is cast 
 
 Which hoped to find its lot so free and fair. 
 
 This plan destroyed, and that scourged with fierce scorn, 
 
 Misunderstood and standing all alone, 
 With furrowed brow and heart with anguish torn, 
 
 The frail tongue plains its unavailing moan. 
 
 Yet God the Father knows His children's needs, 
 
 And should He chide, then say, "Thou knowest 
 best," 
 
 He paints the blossom, e'en the sparrow feeds, 
 His trials lead to pure and perfect rest. 
 
 'Tis hard to bear the rod on quiv'ring flesh, 
 And harder still upon the shrinking mind ; 
 
 But after rain the air is pure and fresh, 
 
 And blinding snow preserves earth's fertile rind.
 
 2 o6 " C UT OF MUCH TRIE ULA TIONr 
 
 The stormy wind strips bare the shivering trees, 
 But purifies the air and makes it sweet; 
 
 And He who overrules all Nature, sees 
 
 The joys and sorrows for His creatures meet. 
 
 And who are these who walk in robes of white. 
 Who chant " Hosanna to the Heavenly King " ? 
 
 The children, who in sorrow's darkest night 
 
 Have seen the stars and heard their anthems ring. 
 
 Then courage, fainting soul ! be not cast down. 
 Sweep clean and garnish every secret place : 
 
 Though clouds are heavy and dark shadows frown, 
 There is no shame save merited disgrace. 
 
 Behold the great ones who in failure's hour 
 
 Fulfilled the task which they were meant to do ! 
 
 And never doubt that the Almighty Power 
 
 Which worked for them, shall work as well for you.
 
 THE MANY AND THE FEW. 207 
 
 THE MANY AND THE FEW. 
 
 Sunlight was dancing through foHage green, 
 
 Glancing on herbage the tree trunks between ; 
 
 Shadily resting we sat at our ease, 
 
 Speaking or silent, and fanned by the breeze ; 
 
 Satisfied most of us with the faint gleam 
 
 Forcing its way like known facts through a dream. 
 
 Happily there in that twilight we lay, 
 Watching the birds and the insects at play; 
 No one seemed anxious to court the full beams 
 Which beat on th' meadow, and out on the streams 
 Glittered like burnished and dangerous steel, 
 Flashing from scabbards of horsemen who wheel. 
 
 Is it not so in the realm of the mind. 
 That the majority their pleasure find 
 Lazily loitering 'neath the deep shade, 
 Others opinions around them have made. 
 Which of us longs in the full rays of Truth, 
 Burthens to bear for the Truth's sake forsooth ?
 
 2o8 THE MANY AND THE FEW. 
 
 Fortunate 'tis that there are those who must 
 Leave all the comforts of shelter to thrust 
 Hands into wild nooks where specimens dwell. 
 Are not content in a deep shady dell 
 Idly away their brief life-time to pass, 
 Or be reflections displayed in a glass. 
 
 Restless and troublesome mortals are these, 
 Clearing the forests and searching the seas ; 
 Always attaining, but never for long, 
 Singing in peace a glad victory song. 
 Rays of the truth cannot satisfy such. 
 Learning a little, they yearn to know much !
 
 IN MAGDALEN CHAPEL. 209 
 
 IN MAGDALEN CHAPEL. 
 (oxford, august 1890.) 
 
 A ROW of pictured saints obscures the light 
 From rows of hving faces in the stalls ; 
 
 The glorious organ tones drown with their might 
 The chorus of the birds outside the walls. 
 
 In this dim light, fresh faces of fair girls 
 
 Look pale and faint, as those of sainted maids ; 
 
 And as the rolling sound-storm circling whirls, 
 The gloom increases and all colour fades. 
 
 The coarsest and least lovely countenance 
 
 Grows spiritually delicate and wan ; 
 And of frivolity's gay, wand'ring glance. 
 
 All trace from the uplifted eyes is gone. 
 
 The upturned eyes catch the last pallid gleams 
 Of day, and star-like, shine out wierdly clear. 
 Like corpse lights with their flick'ring, flashing beams, 
 That dance o'er marshland when dread midnight's 
 near. 
 
 14
 
 2 1 o IN MA GDALEN CHAPEL. 
 
 Those many faces as 'fore God appear, 
 
 As they shall be when time and storm are past, 
 
 When earth has faded, and the spirit near 
 Its home, casts off the shrouding flesh at last. 
 
 God sees beneath the colour and the dress, 
 Beneath the bloom of youth or gloom of age. 
 
 And on the soul he reads the true impress — 
 Which men oft miss — writ on its hidden page.
 
 FLEETING OR IMMORTAL. 211 
 
 FLEETING OR IMMORTAL. 
 
 I STOOD beside a garden gate that led 
 
 Into the curving end of a short street, 
 And listened to the never-ceasing tread 
 
 Upon a highway near, of many feet. 
 
 A sound of laughter surged as onward rolled, 
 A restless tide of life no force may stem ; 
 
 And as men passed, the solemn death-bell tolled. 
 As though to ask, " What shall become of them ? " 
 
 Are they but spray of Life's great ocean, tossed 
 Against the beetling cliffs of transient time, 
 
 To shine a moment, then again l)e lost ? 
 To think so stung me sharply, like a crime. 
 
 Are they but blossoms on Life's spreading tree, 
 Just born to bloom a moment in the sun, 
 
 Then fade away and die ? Or shall they see 
 Another life and light, when these are done ? 
 
 They cannot die ; of that 1 am quite sure, 
 
 Though what their new life may be, who shall tell ? 
 
 The spray falls back to ocean, blossoms pure 
 Drop down to earth, nor stay just what they fell.
 
 212 FLEETING OR IMMORTAL. 
 
 The sum of life, perchance, remains the same ; 
 
 In distribution only lies the change. 
 A form we knew by one familiar name, 
 
 Transfigured, seems to us both new and strange. 
 
 If this be true of things we see and touch. 
 We may believe it true of the unseen ; 
 
 For laws that rule the little, guide the much. 
 And nothing shall be lost that once has been !
 
 OF BEAUTY. 213 
 
 OF BEAUTY. 
 
 O Beauty, glorious goddess, long defamed 
 
 By foul Imagination's brooding fear, 
 
 To which thy floating garments oft appear 
 The raiment of a temptress, boldly aimed 
 To win men from devotion that has tamed 
 
 Unbridled passion in its wild career. 
 
 To Wisdom's eyes wood-flowers are not more clear 
 Of taint than thou, and were as fairly blamed. 
 
 The world is steeped in Beauty to the lips, 
 
 And only man avoids her winsome ways; 
 
 He shuts his eyes to her diviner rays, 
 And at dark founts of bitterness he sips, 
 His nature's finest fibres rudely nips. 
 
 To pass in gloomy twilight sunny days. 
 
 A sparkling draught is proffered that allays 
 Life's thirst ; through trembling hands the goblet slips ! 
 
 Thy joyous presence, exquisitely fair, 
 Transfigures with a touch the sordid lot. 
 And life is little worth where thou art not. 
 
 Thy breath steals o'er the hills, and straight they wear 
 
 An undulating softness ; thou dost fare 
 
 To wreathe lithe tendrils round a sheltered spot, 
 And soon th' enchanted and sequestered grot 
 
 Seems more than earthly to the lovers there.
 
 214 OF BEAUTY. 
 
 With motions swift as beams of morning light, 
 Thou playest across aspiring forest trees, 
 Awaking answers to the rushing breeze 
 
 In flashes of reflected radiance bright. 
 
 Caught from the rising sun ; then taking flight 
 To ruffle the serenity of summer seas, 
 Thou bringest to birth resounding harmonies, 
 
 Where wilful waves dash wildly, gem bedight. 
 
 All Nature yields with rapture to thy spell, 
 
 And glad or sorrowful she owns thy sway ; 
 
 In narrow dales dost thou delighted stay, 
 Where far-extending uplands grandly swell, 
 And on those lofty peaks where few may dwell. 
 
 So keen the air, so rare a balmy day ; 
 
 On level lands o'erlaid with misty grey. 
 Where mighty barriers the billows quell. 
 
 O Beauty, bring thy legions bright of joy. 
 
 Flash rainbow tints of promise from thy wings 
 On far serener eyes, where memory brings 
 
 Not scalding tears, but gentle rain ; employ 
 
 These deadened senses till they cease to cloy 
 
 The wheels of life, with gathered dust that clings 
 To all neglected and untended things. 
 
 Corroding silently till they destroy.
 
 OF BEAUTY. 215 
 
 My heart beats lightly as I think of thee, 
 
 O Beauty, filling the unlovely haunts 
 
 Of toiling men, where Ugliness now taunts 
 With bitter jibes of vice and poverty \ 
 Transforming lanes to airy spaces, free 
 
 From squalor ; sad, distorted shape which flaunts 
 
 Its rags so openly, and almost daunts 
 The hope of those who know what man should be. 
 
 O come, come quickly, fill the burthened breast 
 With images of life instead of death ; 
 Revive the fainting soul till it draws breath 
 
 With mighty inspirations, making blest 
 
 Its days of labour and its hours of rest. 
 
 Come like the Spring, that stirring softly, saith, 
 "Awake " to every thing that quivereth 
 
 With life, to urge it on an upward quest. 
 
 Though puritanic forces long have fought 
 A holy war against thee, come, renew 
 Life's youthful joyousness once more \ in lieu 
 
 Of hideous doubt, depression, narrow thought, 
 
 Bring open minds desiring to be taught 
 
 How they shall pierce the darkness, and see through 
 The Good and Beautiful, to find the True, 
 
 So long in man-made shadows vainly sought.
 
 2i6 RE-UNION. 
 
 RE-UNION. 
 
 (song.) 
 
 I LONG to see thee once again, 
 
 As thou wert years ago, 
 Ere the defacing hand of time 
 
 Had forced thy tears to flow. 
 
 Thy soul is lovely as of old, 
 
 'Tis but the fleeting face 
 That many years and grief untold 
 
 Have wrapped in their embrace. 
 
 Death's portal passed, thou stand'st once more 
 
 A maid serene and fair. 
 O linger near that crowded door, 
 That I may join thee there.
 
 CAST THY BREAD UPON THE WA TERS. 2 1 7 
 
 CAST THY BREAD UPON THE WATERS. 
 
 Some words there are that float from age to age, 
 
 Across the gulf of centuries thay fly, 
 Are ever fresh and black upon the page, 
 
 Endued with life that knows not how to die. 
 
 Deep, elemental truths of love and life 
 
 They bear upon their wings to thoughtful hearts ; 
 They calm the passions, pouring oil on strife. 
 
 Before their fragrance driven, doubt departs. 
 
 " Cast bread upon the waters," and believe 
 The promise added to that strange command ; 
 
 Assist the stumbling, false steps to retrieve. 
 And lift the fallen with a gentle hand. 
 
 Not wealth nor honour do these duties bring, 
 But inward riches rust can ne'er destroy ; 
 
 A heart of sterling coinage and clear ring. 
 Unmixed with worthless dross or dull alloy. 
 
 The seed, when sown, seems buried in the ground ; 
 
 But God works good in most mysterious ways. 
 And bread upon the water cast, is found 
 
 Returning surely, after many days.
 
 2i8 LYDIA. 
 
 LYDIA. 
 
 We sat, my friend and I, beside the fire, 
 Within a quiet chamber. When she spoke 
 It was as though my thought an echo woke. 
 
 " Does God," she asked, " the present day inspire ? " 
 
 A silence fell between us after that, 
 
 The waning daylight deepened into night. 
 But on her face the flickering fire threw light ; 
 
 While she as still as sculptured marble sat. 
 
 Her words went ringing through my wondering heart ; 
 
 Nor could I fail to note her wasted cheek. 
 
 I waited quietly till she should speak. 
 The brooding thought more fully to impart. 
 
 A pause, and then, " If men were God-inspired, 
 How did the inspiration seem to them ? 
 Was it an outward force they could not stem, 
 
 Or some internal impulse none admired ? " 
 
 "Tell me," I said, " what prompts this question strange." 
 "Since I have been so feeble," she replied, 
 " Have thought, that as I am I might have died. 
 
 My mind has undergone a startling change ;
 
 LYDIA. 219 
 
 "And day by day new thoughts grow clear to me ; 
 Of fixed purpose I become aware, 
 The people whom I know seem now my care, 
 
 Though I before, forgot them utterly. 
 
 " And if I live I must go forth to find 
 The friendless and the fallen far or near ; 
 Must tell them of a Love which casts out fear, 
 
 Of God a Father, who loves all mankind. 
 
 " The life will be a hard one ; friends will chide, 
 And I, perchance, may doubt that I was right 
 To leave this home, so sheltered and so bright ; 
 
 While those who love me not, may e'en deride. 
 
 "Is this an inspiration? Am I mad? 
 
 What is this strange, new, pulsing life within, 
 This love for sinners, hatred for all sin, 
 
 This hot desire to make all sad lives glad ? " 
 
 I dared not answer when she ceased to speak ; 
 But soon remembered words began to flow, 
 " About my Father's business I must go. 
 
 The lost to find, the wand'ring sheep to seek."
 
 2 20 LYDIA. 
 
 And then the answer came in one quick flash ! 
 " God broods for ever o'er the changing world, 
 His thoughts in every age are lying furled ; 
 
 'Tis He inspires the weak and makes them rash." 
 
 " I thank you." That was all she said, but now 
 A nurse goes fearlessly where strong men fear. 
 She tends the fallen, many sad ones hear 
 
 These words of life, "God loves e'en such as thou."
 
 VARIETY. 221 
 
 VARIETY. 
 
 Watch thou the faces as they pass thee in the street, 
 And see the beautiful, the coarse, the scarred with pain ; 
 
 Some scowling back suspiciously, some very sweet ; 
 For two alike thou shalt look earnestly in vain ! 
 
 Take then a bud or leaf from every plant and tree, 
 And mark th' immense variety of shape and hue : 
 
 Again no two alike ; the smallest is quite free 
 
 To be its own true self, to drink from earth and dew. 
 
 Thy books are many, and 'twould be a childish thought 
 Shouldst thou desire that all should tell the self-same tale. 
 
 Their value lies therein, that through them thou art brought 
 To feel that minds are various, as are hill and dale. 
 
 For Multiplicity without satiety. 
 
 All forms and colours tending ever to increase, 
 A universal law of life appears to be. 
 
 The evolution of a force which cannot cease.
 
 2 22 BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 
 
 BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 
 
 Tinsel glitters on her gaze, 
 
 Elfin forms and robes of light, 
 Filling her with glad amaze ; 
 
 O that life were half so bright ! 
 Honied words of secret praise 
 
 Draw her onward by their might, 
 Through illusion's golden haze, 
 
 Fairy fountains pour delight. 
 
 Music wakes her slumbering heart, 
 
 Stirring pulses still before, 
 Eager tremors wildly dart 
 
 Through the senses' open door. 
 Hesitations all depart, 
 
 Eagerly her thoughts implore 
 On a glittering race to start ; 
 
 Childlike joy can naught restore. 
 
 Falls the curtain, but her dream 
 
 Hovers round her as she goes ; 
 Flaring gaslights wildly gleam 
 
 On the pavement, glamour glows 
 All around her, and they seem 
 
 Flashing jewel fire that flows, 
 Widening to a glorious stream, 
 
 Quenching all her girlish woes.
 
 ON THE STAGE. 223 
 
 Future days shall be so fair, 
 
 Every hour of purest gold, 
 Summer always in the air, 
 
 Banishing dark nights and cold ; 
 Silvery garments will she wear. 
 
 Win great fame and wealth untold ; 
 Sorrow shall not be her share, 
 
 Clouds for her away be rolled. 
 
 ON THE STAGE. 
 
 Rows of faces idly peer 
 
 At her as her part she plays ; 
 Gold itself were hateful here, 
 
 And these tawdry tinsel rays 
 Flaunt before her, and appear 
 
 Mocking spectres of past days. 
 Faces rising tier on tier, 
 
 Haunt her on life's sodden ways. 
 
 Gone the glamour, beauty flies, 
 
 Though so sorrowful, her part 
 Must be acted ; sobbing cries, 
 
 Stifled ere they leave her heart. 
 Dumbly ask the dearest prize, 
 
 Liberty away to dart 
 From these unknown, curious eyes. 
 
 Asking smiles, while tears will start.
 
 224 A FUSION OF MIND AND MATTER. 
 
 Scented flow'rets, like a knife, 
 
 Fall upon her tortured breast ; 
 Martial music, drum and fife, 
 
 Summon her to do her best, 
 Where forced gaiety is rife, 
 
 Heedless of a soul oppressed. 
 Patience, weary one, the strife 
 
 At its longest leads to rest. 
 
 TTiundrous acclamations greet 
 
 Th' idol of a giddy throng, 
 Roses raining at her feet 
 
 Rapturously reward her song. 
 Nothing sees she but a street. 
 
 And a girl who wends along 
 Picturing a life so sweet, 
 
 Happy, innocent of wrong. 
 
 A FUSION OF MIND AND MATTER. 
 
 I SIT with closed eyes and listen long 
 To music militant, or plaintive song, 
 And airy spaces rise. 
 Where, 'neath o'erarching skies. 
 As far as sight can pierce, the mountains lift 
 Their rugged heads above the misty drift.
 
 A FUSION OF MIND AND MATTER. 225 
 
 While murmuring streamlets fill 
 
 The valley warm and still, 
 With undertones of happy industry, 
 And prophecies of rivers yet to be. 
 
 Or, leaving men and cities far behind, 
 I climb into an eyrie where the wind 
 
 Makes music ceaselessly, 
 
 And roving eyes are free 
 To follow every undulating line, 
 And mark swift shadows fleet, and sunbeams 
 shine; 
 
 Melodious notes I know, 
 
 With unknown accents flow. 
 To mingle in a symphony of space. 
 And bring a smile, or frown, on Nature's face. 
 
 Harmonious numbers and the breezy hills 
 Seem interfused within my breast ; each fills 
 
 The yearning heart with joy. 
 
 And finds the soul employ. 
 Or, like sweet sleep, gives strength anew to wend 
 Upon the path where thought and action blend ; 
 
 Dissolving doubt to peace ; 
 
 And though the one should cease, 
 The other would bear witness through all time, 
 Of lofty heights the foot, or soul, may climb. 
 
 15
 
 226 BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 THROUGH BROTHER TO BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 In slavery and scorn 
 k Brother's love is born; 
 Egyptian bondage dark 
 Awakes th' heroic spark 
 Within the foundling's heart ; 
 He takes his people's part, 
 Then leads them forth to go 
 Where milk and honey flow. 
 Through dangers manifold 
 To guide them ; till grown old 
 He sees the Promised Land 
 Whereon he may not stand. 
 
 A fitful, flickering light 
 Shines through tradition's night ; 
 It falls from men who pray 
 At morn and close of day, 
 " Jehovah, greatest Lord, 
 Keep Thou Thy pledged word, 
 And grant thy people peace 
 To grow and to increase." 
 Yet ruthlessly they smite 
 The weaker Canaanite !
 
 BROTHERHOOD. 227 
 
 The veil is rent, and dying groans 
 
 Are echoed on earth's throbbing stones \ 
 
 Upon a hill-top lifted high 
 
 A gentle Nazarene must die. 
 
 The Law to save its empire now 
 
 Binds thorns upon a tender brow; 
 
 The crucifix gleams luridly, 
 
 Yet failure's hour means victory ! 
 
 On awe-struck hearts the last words fall, 
 
 And darkness covers with its pall 
 
 The place where Love departing, sighs, 
 
 Drain's earth's last cup, and fainting, dies! 
 
 " Forgive them, Father," accents new, 
 " Forgive, they know not what they do." 
 A wondrous sense of healing calm 
 Descends on men who came to harm ; 
 Forgiveness sown within the breast 
 Shall germinate and know no rest ; 
 Its precious seed is scattered wide 
 Upon the living, flowing tide 
 That bears to many lands the thought, 
 Self-sacrifice so nobly bought. 
 A banner everywhere unfurled 
 Proclaims, "The Father loves the world." 
 
 And soon the springing blades of wheat, 
 Preserved by cold and forced by heat,
 
 228 BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 Are clothing gloriously the fields. 
 
 Self-sacrifice a power wields 
 
 Beyond the might of crowned king. 
 
 From land to land on buoyant wing, 
 
 Sweet messages of peace and joy 
 
 Awake each heart to full employ. 
 
 Too soon the plains are reaped once more, 
 
 Authority begins to store 
 
 In narrow walls the unripe grain ; 
 
 With human blood the fruit they stain ! 
 
 Dark clouds of strife and hatred hide the light. 
 Brother denounces brother ; through the night 
 The Father, hidden by the smoke of creeds, 
 Seems careless of his crying children's needs ; 
 And thousands groaning inly for pure food 
 Are forced to worship blocks of painted wood. 
 The lifted Cross of Love, become a scourge, 
 Is used to terrify and fiercely urge. 
 Yet nothing truly dies ; burnt on a fire 
 Its emanations purified, inspire 
 With added heat the chill surrounding air. 
 And lo 1 there springs to life a blossom fair. 
 
 Ah see, where every persecuted maid, 
 And martyrs trapped, disfigured, and betrayed, 
 Translated, shine above the reek of strife, 
 And herald the return to quickened life
 
 BROTHERHOOD. 229 
 
 Of that great Sun no man hath power to stay ; 
 Already the horizon gleams with day 
 When Law and Love to Freedom joined shall reign, 
 And hand shall meet with hand across the main ; 
 When colour and condition, race and creed, 
 Shall be forgotten in a Brother's need ; 
 When agony of one shall touch the whole. 
 And noble deeds shall pulse through every soul. 
 
 How long, how long, before the sunlight shall disperse 
 The mists, and rise above all fear of rough reverse ? 
 Is consummation in the future yet afar, 
 And shall intolerance raise yet another bar 
 Between the men and nations, sharers of one Life, 
 That beats through every heart beneath the noise of 
 
 strife ? 
 Ah no ! it cannot be, for God and man have met. 
 And soon the gloomy night of ignorance must set. 
 The golden days draw near, for thought is growing pure, 
 And loving hearts are waiting, ready to endure 
 With patience all the pangs of Brotherhood's late birth, 
 To bring the Paradise of Peace upon the earth.
 
 230 " ONE THING 1 KNO W: 
 
 "ONE THING I KNOW." 
 
 I KNOW not why I work to-day, 
 Nor why I strive at this hard task ; 
 
 I know not why I go to pray, 
 And scarcely know what I would ask. 
 
 I know not what the end may be, 
 And yet I toil as though I knew ; 
 
 I know not why I would be free, 
 Would suffer loss to be quite true. 
 
 Something there is that draws me on, 
 And gives me strength to smile at pain ; 
 
 Which pours out hope when joy is gone, 
 And fills the empty heart again. 
 
 Something there is that bids me go 
 
 Along a path I fear to tread ; 
 It strikes the rock and waters flow, 
 
 And touches stones to make them bread. 
 
 Yet ONE THING I most surely know. 
 That this unseen, mysterious force 
 
 Evolves the higher from the low. 
 
 Brings out the better from the worse !
 
 PRESENT, THOUGH UNSEEN. 231 
 
 PRESENT, THOUGH UNSEEN. 
 
 All day the rustling woodland, 
 
 The whispering grass and flowers, 
 Beneath the summer sunshine 
 
 Glowed green as fairy bowers. 
 But now the stars are shining, 
 
 The earth is wrapped in shade, 
 I cannot see one flow'ret 
 
 Within the gloomy glade. 
 
 The room is softly lighted 
 
 By one lamp's pleasant glow, 
 And all around are standing 
 
 The things I love and know. 
 But take away the glimmer 
 
 Of that one cheery flame. 
 And all the rest are taken, 
 
 I know them but by name. 
 
 Yet if the sun shone brightly 
 
 By night as well as day. 
 The lamp were never lifted. 
 
 Nor e'er consumed away ; 
 I still should need my eyesight 
 
 The greenwood's wealth to share ; 
 Or recognise the treasures 
 
 1 know are standing there
 
 232 PRESENT, THOUGH UNSEEN. 
 
 To see the nearest object 
 
 We need sight, light, and air ; 
 To touch it we need bodies, 
 
 A solid garb 't must wear. 
 Yes, many things are present 
 
 Which we can only guess, 
 We know them by their working. 
 
 Or their resistlessness. 
 
 And who hath seen pure friendship, 
 
 Though it is real and true ? 
 Heat, motion, gravitation. 
 
 These work unseen for you. 
 Then do not say things are not. 
 
 That they can never be. 
 Remember the conditions 
 
 Surrounding all you see !
 
 A SUCCESSFUL MAN. 233 
 
 A SUCCESSFUL MAN. 
 
 Not rich you say, and that is true, 
 Nor hath he won great fame ; 
 
 While his real worth is known to few, 
 And some perhaps may blame. 
 
 He has not had an easy hfe, 
 For he has told the truth, 
 
 And conscientiousness brings strife, 
 Especially in youth. 
 
 But courage he has had and health, 
 
 And ready, helpful hands : 
 The love of those he taught his wealth, 
 
 Scattered in distant lands. 
 
 Many there are who owe to him 
 Their love for nobler things ; 
 
 At his name strong men's eyes grow dim, 
 With tears that memory brings.
 
 234 A SUCCESSFUL MAN. 
 
 His houses have their walls of flesh, 
 His lands are rescued minds, 
 
 His gems are souls freed from the mesh 
 Which pleasure round them winds. 
 
 If such a man as this has failed, 
 Then failure is success ! 
 
 The true success that has availed 
 For other's happiness.
 
 HOPE AND RESIGNATION. 235 
 
 HOPE AND RESIGNATION. 
 
 Hope paints with sunset tints the leaden sky 
 Of long borne pain, of sorrow's coming night ; 
 It shoots bright rays that whisper as they die, 
 The sun will come again with morning light. 
 
 Then work and hope if health should be thy portion. 
 Nor swerve from straightest paths of truth and right ; 
 Defend the needy from unjust extortion, 
 And help the weak against the arm of might. 
 
 Endure and hope if weakness be thy part. 
 When flesh wears thin th' eternal world draws near. 
 God through His sick ones softens every heart, 
 The dew upon His harvest is a tear. 
 
 Be hopeful yet resigned, so shall thy days 
 Of active service, or of calm endurance. 
 Pass peacefully ; that either of these ways 
 Leads home at last, is faith's sublime assurance.
 
 236 TIMES OF TRANSITION. 
 
 TIMES OF TRANSITION. 
 
 All times are times of change, but youth and spring 
 Are fullest of fresh life, and undismayed ; 
 Not long their eager footsteps are delayed 
 
 By solemn requiems they ought to sing ; 
 
 And O, in days like these, when on the wing 
 Are fancies manifold, and life is swayed 
 By impulse from within, no boundary laid 
 
 Can measure what one year, e'en one, may bring. 
 
 A maiden quivers with delight to feel 
 
 Strange streams flow in upon her narrow round, 
 Exulting pulses dancing, leap and bound 
 
 In answer to importunate appeal 
 
 From the wide world without, whose echoes steal 
 Upon her irresistibly, and sound 
 On strings prepared to vibrate. Life is found 
 
 A growing wonder, and her senses reel. 
 
 Ascetic lives of still, monastic peace 
 Are now impossible to living souls ; 
 Some force impalpable the mind controls, 
 
 And spirits, captive long, seek swift release,
 
 TIMES OF TRANSITION. 237 
 
 And will not be denied ; the long, long lease 
 Is over of imprisonment ; the poles 
 Are scarcely far enough apart, and doles 
 
 Of freedom cannot bribe the strife to cease. 
 
 'Tis good to live in times of changing thought, 
 When breezes freshly blow across the land, 
 And many questions newly opened stand 
 
 Inviting eager minds abroad, to court 
 
 The glowing sunshine ; closed doors long sought 
 Monopolies to grant, to some small band, 
 Of all-pervading light. New days demand 
 
 New watch-words, and new banners bravely wrought. 
 
 A stranger change than these awaits us all, 
 
 And oft I wonder what that change shall be ! 
 
 Some are there, doubtless, who amazed shall see 
 Themselves as now they are, and wildly call 
 For sudden transformation. Death shall fall 
 
 As falls a veil, O dying one, for thee ; 
 
 The scene then changed, from flesh shalt thou be free, 
 But cherished hopes shall hold thee still in thrall. 
 
 For life is one ! In that room, or in this, 
 The heart retains its many loves and hates ; 
 An entered door stills not the wild debates 
 
 Of what I would not touch, or long to kiss.
 
 238 TIMES OF TRANSITION. 
 
 Unhappy here and fretful, how shall bliss 
 Miraculously fill, when pointing fates 
 Have bid men try the other of two states, 
 
 Yet nothing, save the fleshly lusts, they miss ? 
 
 Hold fast the thought, O soul, and live as thou 
 Wert fain to live when, that transition made, 
 Thou enterest the spirit-land arrayed 
 
 In that thou thinkest I Branded on the brow 
 
 By low desires, so well concealed now 
 
 That none suspect how far thy mind has strayed 
 From virtue and from justice : how dismayed 
 
 Wert thou to-day, did earth no screen allow ! 
 
 Some pass without a fear the narrow stream 
 O'er which the mist of death its shadow flings ; 
 For them the tolling bell a joy-peal rings 
 
 Of hope lost in fruition ; they but seem 
 
 As one awaking from a pleasant dream 
 
 Of glorious sunshine, and unfailing springs, 
 To find himself amid the beauteous things 
 
 Of which before, he caught a passing gleam !
 
 THE ALTAR LAMP. 239 
 
 THE ALTAR LAMP. 
 
 Leaving a busy, bustling street, 
 We passed an unpretending door 
 
 Into a silent fane. Our feet 
 Fell echoing on its massy floor. 
 
 Kneeling, we prayed ; then through the gloom 
 
 A far-off, faint, yet steady light 
 Shone star-like ; by its ray the room 
 
 Seemed vaster, solemn as the night. 
 
 That piercing light controlled the eye, 
 Compelled the soul to own its power. 
 
 " Truth lives for aye," it seemed to cry, 
 " Outlasts the creatures of an hour." 
 
 The organ pealed ; some words were said, 
 But through them all that shining spark 
 
 Burnt lonely. All the world seemed dead, — 
 Truth, far away, illumed the dark.
 
 240 THE ALTAR LAMP. 
 
 "Ah, if these throbbing hearts bowed down 
 Before the shrine could catch the flame, 
 
 And wander forth to hill and town, 
 Proclaiming God's eternal Name. 
 
 "But no," I thought, "that light so pure, 
 So far removed from those who pray, 
 
 Is guarded there ; while men endure 
 The toil and stress of every day. 
 
 "And yet 'tis well that Truth should burn 
 
 Before an altar steadily, 
 That even two or three should turn 
 
 From work to holy reverie. 
 
 " O were it not too far removed 
 
 To fire the heart and rouse the brain ! 
 
 It shines, a thing that may be loved, 
 Not near enough for man to gain." 
 
 Harmonious tones disturbed my thought, 
 A white-robed form moved o'er the floor ; 
 
 And ah, from that far flame was brought 
 A kindling spark for many more ! 
 
 They shone more brightly than the first, 
 Were nearer, yet were steady too ; 
 
 To these e'en world-stained mortals durst 
 Draw near, their fainting hearts t' renew.
 
 THE ALTAR LAMP. 241 
 
 In waiting souls they kindled fires, 
 
 Transfiguring each careworn face 
 With chastened hopes and pure desires, 
 
 With holy aspiration's grace. 
 
 Returning to the crowded street, 
 Like consecrated ground it seemed ; 
 
 On multitudes that onward fleet 
 
 A new day dawned, a new sun beamed. 
 
 And every man and woman there 
 Seemed nearer to the Heart Divine, 
 
 For each unconsciously doth bear 
 
 A lamp to light at Truth's great shrine. 
 
 16
 
 242 TRUE HAPPINESS. 
 
 TRUE HAPPINESS. 
 
 They say thou'rt happy, that thy wit 
 Lights up the dullest round of talk : 
 
 It may be so while lamps are lit, 
 
 And men and women round thee walk. 
 
 A word for her, a smile for him, 
 Thou listenest now with interest ; 
 
 But as I watch my eyes grow dim, — 
 Thou art not what I once loved best. 
 
 Thy glance is piercing still, and bright, 
 
 But not so earnest as of yore. 
 To seek and find what things are right; 
 
 Thou jestest where thou didst adore. 
 
 Thou stately girl, nay, woman now, 
 
 Throw off these shows that are not real ; 
 
 Return, and place upon thy brow 
 The crown of thy youth's lost ideal. 
 
 Then could I truly call thee glad, 
 
 Thou need'st not then dread quiet hours ; 
 
 No earthly loss could make thee sad. 
 For sorrow would evolve new powers.
 
 THE THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE. 243 
 
 THE THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 She tried to live as others live, 
 
 To satisfy her mind as they, 
 To grasp the joy that love can give, 
 
 To be content with childish play. 
 
 But all in vain ! She could not rest, 
 The garden walls seemed far too near ; 
 
 Above the ivy's tossing crest 
 Dream faces rose, to disappear. 
 
 •' O let me see what lies beyond," 
 
 She cried, "though sight bring misery." 
 
 ''Ah, go not hence," said voices fond, 
 " Here surely thou hast liberty. 
 
 " Here dost thou reign despotic queen, 
 And all is thine, for thou art loved ; 
 
 Here thou art sheltered by the sheen 
 Of silken curtains." Was she moved? 
 
 Yes, moved to go, and go full soon, 
 
 Beyond that kingdom where she reigned, 
 
 To feel the scorching heat of noon. 
 And know what others have attained.
 
 244 THE THIRST FOR KNO WLEDGE. 
 
 To seek the sad and ask them why 
 They suffer thus, yet ding to Ufe ; 
 
 To know the poor who hve and die, 
 Where endless toil and want are rife. 
 
 To share the heaven-born dreams oft sent 
 Into the heart of fair, fresh youth ; 
 
 And learn from men whose lives are spent 
 In constant effort after truth. 
 
 'Tis some necessity that drives 
 
 The sheltered from their Eden bowers : 
 
 " You must," the heart against it strives, 
 And then "I will" is said 'mid showers. 
 
 Too oft alone the soul fares forth, — 
 Always alone its choice must make ; 
 
 Yet true as needle to the North, 
 Its longing points the way to take.
 
 A HARVEST VISION. 245 
 
 A HARVEST VISION. 
 
 'TvvAS said, "How full of discontent to-day 
 Are youthful lives ; on restless feet they haste 
 O'er foolish pleasures precious years to waste, 
 
 Though weary of the giddy games they play." 
 
 A vision rose of rustling fields all ripe, 
 Awaiting willing workers to bring in 
 A mighty harvest, stores of food to win, 
 
 Gaunt famine off the face of earth to wipe. 
 
 Of orchards glowing red with luscious fruit. 
 Decaying on the branches, for no hand 
 Is raised to gather it ; of fertile land 
 
 O'errun with reptiles at its deepest root. 
 
 And then I saw a few untiring souls 
 
 Who toiled the livelong day those fields to reap, 
 \Vith little time for rest or needed sleep, 
 
 Though far beyond their reach the upland rolls. 
 
 Ah, how shall two or three that giant task 
 Accomplish ? Manfully they strain and toil 
 A few poor sheaves to save, lest all should spoil. 
 
 And O the shame that thousands idly bask !
 
 246 A HARVEST VISION. 
 
 I see them resting in the sheltered grove, 
 Beside the stream, upon the breezy hill ; 
 Regardless of the harvest that should fill 
 
 The empty barns, they lightly sing and rove. 
 
 Their boisterous laughter drifts upon the air, 
 Their heavy sighs oppress the leafy shades, 
 And as they loiter, lo, their beauty fades, 
 
 While fretful fingers furrow lines of care. 
 
 So autumn days too swiftly slip away, 
 
 Ungarnered grain is dropping to the ground. 
 But while the sunshine lasts are idlers found 
 
 Who will not work, yet weary of their play. 
 
 At last come darkling days when all must rest, 
 And many long that they could wholly die, 
 So heavily a squandered past doth lie 
 
 On those who know they have not done their best. 
 
 The workers sleep ; yet sleeping, rouse new life, — 
 Each earnest word and helpful deed awakes 
 An echo in another heart, and takes 
 
 Perennial inspiration into strife.
 
 HOME AGAIN! 247 
 
 HOME AGAIN ! 
 
 I SEE her as she used to stand, 
 
 And shade her eyes with one brown hand 
 
 To gaze across the fields where lay 
 
 A line of smoke far, far away ; 
 
 A power it wielded o'er her life, 
 
 For in her heart wild thoughts were rife. 
 
 She longed to try her maiden strength, 
 
 And to the town went forth at length. 
 
 I see her as she stood once more, 
 Outside that humble cottage door ; 
 And ah, she fain would enter in, 
 But dared not go, because her sin 
 Had closed the door which once stood wide 
 In days when there was naught to hide ; 
 When she and they who loved her well, 
 Had no sad tale of shame to tell. 
 
 The driving rain was falling fast, 
 And O, how bitter blew the blast 
 From those far hills that looked so fair, 
 When she, a girl, was standing there.
 
 248 HOME AGAIN! 
 
 She wondered at her discontent, 
 And why into the world she went 
 'Mid strangers all alone to roam, 
 So far from that dear, sheltered home. 
 
 " O God," she wailed, " why was I born ? " 
 
 And then her heart with anguish torn, 
 
 She sank with a despairing cry 
 
 Upon the doorstep wearily. 
 
 The aged mother heard the sound, 
 
 And reached the door with one quick bound ; 
 
 Her face erst pale, grew darkly red, 
 
 She fell beside the lost one, — dead !
 
 '' THOUGHTS ARE things:' 249 
 
 "THOUGHTS ARE THINGS." 
 
 On wings of thought the soul may soar above the sensuous, 
 
 seen, 
 Beyond the realm of all that is, o'er shadows that have been, 
 To perch on lofty eyries, where afar extends the view, 
 Across the varied landscape of ideal worlds and true. 
 
 Though all life's glittering facets flash their tints upon his 
 
 eyes. 
 Yet not the wisest man has seen where e'en his own life lies ; 
 His Thoughts are Things by which he grasps the force he 
 
 cannot see 
 To carve the shapeless future, till men know what she shall 
 
 be. 
 
 And minds, creative by a power derived from God above, 
 Find thought the subtile atmosphere in which they live and 
 
 move ; 
 And every man may stand one day where prophets stood 
 
 and taught, 
 Above the mists of sight and sense, where gleams of truth 
 
 are caught.
 
 250 ''BENEATH THE STARS." 
 
 "BENEATH THE STARS.' 
 
 Pacing beneath the stars 
 A sudden sense of the immensity 
 Of world-filled space went thrilling through me, 
 
 And lo ! between the bars 
 Of light and shade around, I stood alone, 
 An atom of universe ! No moan 
 
 Of anything so small 
 Could change that order so inviolate. 
 Or through infinitude reverberate, 
 
 So faint, so faint its call. 
 
 O'erwhelmed with solitude, 
 The cheerful flame of aspiration sank. 
 And penetrating mists rose cold and dank 
 
 About me as I stood. 
 Oppressed with insignificance, I asked 
 Why aught so frail should be so sorely tasked. 
 
 So restless to the core ; 
 " Unknown while living, and unmissed when dead, 
 Ah, what remains but to lay down the head 
 
 In rest, and strive no more ? "
 
 ''BENEATH THE STARSr 251 
 
 O heart, so sore dismayed, 
 All that magnificence has long endured, 
 And mortals weak as thou have felt assured 
 
 That when they truly prayed 
 The Infinite hath harkened to their cry, 
 And hushed their terrors to serenity! 
 
 The widest space is naught 
 
 To omnipresent Thought, 
 Its whigs omnipotent, and swift to bless, 
 
 Flash down to earnestness. 
 
 Soaring beyond thy strength, 
 Too anxious soul, thou'rt held in the embrace 
 Of dark despair, disabled for a race 
 
 Of far, far shorter length. 
 Let palpitating pulses sink to rest, 
 Go, fill with joy some agonising breast. 
 
 Soft harmonies shall rise 
 With cheerful answers to all questions sent, 
 Thy cup shall overflow with sweet content. 
 
 And e'en the distant skies 
 
 Seem nearer to thy eyes. 
 
 E'en now I hear the feet 
 Of my own kind ; they walk beneath the dome 
 Of spangled loveliness as in a home ; 
 
 Familiar voices greet
 
 252 ''BENEATH THE STARS." 
 
 These surging ears, recalling me to life, 
 To daily duties, and th' incessant strife 
 
 Of good to conquer ill. 
 Almighty God, earth's sorrows now seem small, 
 The magnitude of space has dwarfed them all ; 
 
 Subdue unto Thy will 
 
 This heart serenely still.
 
 THE GATE OF PEACE. 253 
 
 THE GATE OF PEACE. 
 
 Through a varied vale a throng 
 All the sunny morning roamed ; 
 Rippling laughter lightly foamed, 
 
 Breaking into flakes of song. 
 
 Drinking deeply at each fount, 
 Resting under spreading shade, 
 Ling'ring thoughtlessly they strayed, 
 
 Fleeting hours they failed to count. 
 
 Till the sun began to sink 
 In the embers of the day, 
 And the ghostly winding way 
 
 Forced them all to pause and think. 
 
 Darkness deepened all too fast. 
 Like a thread the path rolled on, 
 Every beam of day soon gone, 
 
 Dreary fear its fetters cast. 
 
 Anxious cries disturbed the air. 
 Heavy groans aroused the night, 
 Putting peace and joy to flight. 
 
 Throwing loads of carking care.
 
 254 THE GATE OF PEACE. 
 
 Till a silent watcher spied 
 
 Portal narrow, grim, and dark, 
 Lighted by one flickering spark. 
 
 Thitherward the wanderers hied. 
 
 Knocking timidly one asks 
 
 Shelter from the drenching dew ; 
 "Welcome, welcome, those of you 
 
 Willing to attempt our tasks. 
 
 " Narrow is the gate, and ease 
 All unknown to those who pass ; 
 Close behind it dense clouds mass. 
 
 Deep the river, keen the breeze. 
 
 "Yet, O mortals, do not fear, \ 
 
 Step by step on solid ground 
 Are the faithful footsteps found ; 
 
 Slough and whirlpool are not here. 
 
 "One step taken clears the road 
 For a bolder step to come ; 
 Though your songs be frozen, dumb, 
 
 Wild despair shall cease to goad, 
 
 "Though your happy laughter cease, 
 Marching music, solemn, slow, 
 Cheers courageous souls that go 
 
 Through their Duty into Peace."
 
 TWIN-STARS. 255 
 
 TWIN-STARS. 
 
 Beneath laburnam's dappled shade 
 She sat with face down-bent, 
 
 While summer breezes round her strayed 
 And kissed her as they went. 
 
 The olive pallor of her face, 
 
 Voluptuously sweet, 
 In northern lands seemed out of place, 
 
 For sun and passion meet. 
 
 Down-drooping lids concealed her eyes, 
 I guessed them dark and deep ; 
 
 Impatient as each moment flies 
 Their hidden charm to reap. 
 
 Uprose a lark with merry shout 
 And roused her from her trance ; 
 
 Then looking up, she gazed full out 
 With keen, observant glance. 
 
 And lo ! the eyes were clear and blue, 
 
 A goodly space apart. 
 Fair lakes of purity, and few 
 
 Lay bare to such the heart.
 
 256 TWIN-STARS. 
 
 Those eyes met mine as strangers' meet, 
 With questioning in their gaze ; 
 
 I longed to hnger at her feet 
 That she my hfe might raise. 
 
 And though we never met again, 
 Those eyes aroused my soul ; 
 
 They haunted me when life seemed vain 
 And lifted high its goal. 
 
 In quiet hours I see them still, 
 
 So steadfast and so sweet. 
 Twin-stars subduing to their will 
 
 The heart they came to greet.
 
 THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 257 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 
 
 A FLOATING nymph, in gossamer arrayed, 
 Came o'er the meadow to a garden fair ; 
 
 Before a rose-crowned arbour paused, and stayed 
 To watch a brooding youth reclining there. 
 
 His curling hair in wild confusion lay 
 Around a face a goddess well might love : 
 
 He heeded not the glorious summer day. 
 
 "I'll tempt him," so she thought, "with me to rove." 
 
 A gentle laugh, like chiming of a flower. 
 
 Fell on his idle senses, and he smiled ; 
 She laughed again ; he gazed around the bower 
 
 With startled attitude, and glances wild. 
 
 Then looking through the porch around the door 
 He saw a shape, diaphanous and sweet : 
 
 She raised her filmy veil as to explore 
 
 The dusky chamber, that their eyes might meet. 
 
 She smiled and beckoned with bewitching grace, 
 The youth looked long at her and found her fair ; 
 
 Then one step forward moved he from his place. 
 A cold, yet gentle hand detained him there ! 
 
 17
 
 258 THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 
 
 He turned, amazed to learn what this might be ! 
 
 The arbour had but now seemed empty quite ; 
 And yet one held him, ojie hung gracefully 
 
 Almost within his reach, and bathed in light ! 
 
 A shadowy form it was, in dusky grey, 
 
 That seemed to keep him firmly where he stood. 
 
 His inmost soul was urging him to stay, 
 But she, outside, put on a sportive mood. 
 
 She feigned to go, then turned again to him, 
 
 Unveiled her golden head which glittered, flashed ! 
 
 Soft words she whispered ; all the world grew dim, 
 And forward to lay hold of her he dashed. 
 
 She fluttered hither, thither, sometimes near, 
 Sometimes so far away that he despaired ; 
 
 But when his ardour waned, she would appear 
 To wait for him, as though for him she cared. 
 
 Upon the waves of growing passion tossed 
 He noticed not that she grew coy and cold : 
 
 His home, his friends, his honour, all were lost 
 To follow her o'er plain, and sea, and wold. 
 
 His youth and beauty waned ; unhonoured age 
 Crept over his disfigured, wrinkled brow. 
 
 He ran till he could run no more, then rage 
 Awoke, and fierce revenge he 'gan to vow.
 
 THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 259 
 
 " O Traitress," so he groaned, "for whom my Hfe 
 Was wasted, I could kill thee, even thee." 
 
 " Nay, nay," she answered," thou gav'st up all strife ; 
 Saw'st thou not Wisdom that day, holding thee ? " 
 
 "But she was dull," he cried, "and cold, and still; 
 
 How could I know that she was pure and good ? " 
 " Frail man," said Pleasure, " hadst thou had the will, 
 
 She had become an ans:el where she stood ! 
 
 *C3^ 
 
 " We two are sisters, she and I ; and she 
 Brings me to those who choose her quiet road : 
 
 But they who leave all else to follow me, 
 
 Find ashes on their lips, and me their goad I " 
 
 He looked, and lo ! her airy shape had changed 
 Into a loathsome hag, lean, lank, and grim ; 
 
 And all her foolish children round her ranged, 
 To join their brotherhood invited him. 
 
 A moment he despaired ; " Is this the end 
 Of all I hoped in boyhood and in youth ? 
 
 Must I with this sad band for ever wend, 
 
 And carry in my heart Despair's fierce tooth ? " 
 
 With shuddering repugnance he turned round, 
 " If I must die, I'll die alone," he said. 
 
 In Wisdom's hand his burning hand he found, 
 And she his trembling footsteps gently led.
 
 26o THE PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 
 
 She laid him softly on the short, sweet grass. 
 
 " I cannot teach thee much, O weary soulj 
 Thy wasted years unfit thee here, alas, 
 
 To comprehend thy life's divinest goal 
 
 " But thou hast even now begun the strife, 
 Of the immortal o'er the mortal part ; 
 
 Move on without a fear, the future life 
 
 Shall grant thee chances to make clean thy heart. 
 
 THE WALTER SCOTT PRESS, NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE.
 
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