 | A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems |  |
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HYMNS, AND OTHER LYRICS.
(SOME OF WHICH WERE WRITTEN TO BE SUNG BY CHILDREN.)
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AT EVENTIDE.
Thou infmitely merciful!
Thy garment's hem in prayer we pull;
Bringing our burdens on our knees,
We take the hand that lends release:
Turn on us one forgiving look,
Before this day shall close its book.
Thy garment's hem in prayer we pull;
Bringing our burdens on our knees,
We take the hand that lends release:
Turn on us one forgiving look,
Before this day shall close its book.
So yearningly we seek thy face
When darkness is our dwelling-place.
Our foolish hearts, that daily roam,
Would nightly nestle with Thee at Home.
Be with us Here, and grant that we
Hereafter, Lord, may be with Thee!
When darkness is our dwelling-place.
Our foolish hearts, that daily roam,
Would nightly nestle with Thee at Home.
Be with us Here, and grant that we
Hereafter, Lord, may be with Thee!
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Father! our inmost parts lie bare
To Thine own purifying air;
We spread our stains out in Thy sight;
O, Sun of Pureness, turn them white:
And make our spirits clear as dew
For thine own Self to lighten through.
To Thine own purifying air;
We spread our stains out in Thy sight;
O, Sun of Pureness, turn them white:
And make our spirits clear as dew
For thine own Self to lighten through.
Send down the Comforter, we plead,
For all who are in bitter need;
Let homeless Hagars find, we pray,
Some well of succour by the way:
With the Angel of Thy Presence bless
Poor wanderers in the wilderness.
For all who are in bitter need;
Let homeless Hagars find, we pray,
Some well of succour by the way:
With the Angel of Thy Presence bless
Poor wanderers in the wilderness.
God keep our darlings safe this night,
Tho' scattered, one still in Thy sight!
Lead on, by many ways, and past
All perils, till we join at last:
With us the broken links! with Thee
The circle perfect endlessly.
Tho' scattered, one still in Thy sight!
Lead on, by many ways, and past
All perils, till we join at last:
With us the broken links! with Thee
The circle perfect endlessly.
Now take us, Father, to Thy breast,
And still all troubled thoughts to rest;
Thy watch and ward about us keep,
That tired souls may smile asleep,
And, having been in heaven awhile,
May wake to-morrow with Thy smile!
And still all troubled thoughts to rest;
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That tired souls may smile asleep,
And, having been in heaven awhile,
May wake to-morrow with Thy smile!
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OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
So dark the way, I cannot see:
O, somewhere-smiling face Divine,
Look down and make my night to shine!
So dark the way, I cannot see.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
O, somewhere-smiling face Divine,
Look down and make my night to shine!
So dark the way, I cannot see.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
All night I stumble gropingly,
Seeking the door in some blank wall,
That shuts me from the light, and call
And listen, listen hopingly.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
Seeking the door in some blank wall,
That shuts me from the light, and call
And listen, listen hopingly.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
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My burden bows me to the knee;
O Lord, 'tis more than I can bear.
Didst Thou not come our load to share?
My burden bows me to the knee.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
O Lord, 'tis more than I can bear.
Didst Thou not come our load to share?
My burden bows me to the knee.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
The Deeps will surely swallow me;
I cry with fainting strength: the waves
Are gaping round in open graves:
The Deeps will surely swallow me.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
I cry with fainting strength: the waves
Are gaping round in open graves:
The Deeps will surely swallow me.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
Far off, so far, the Heavens be,
With their wide arms! and I would prove
The close warm-beating heart of Love.
But so far off the Heavens be:
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
With their wide arms! and I would prove
The close warm-beating heart of Love.
But so far off the Heavens be:
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
Father in Heaven, we cannot see
Thy face, nor grasp the spirit-hand
That leads us to the Unseen Land;
But trustingly, tho' tremblingly,
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
Thy face, nor grasp the spirit-hand
That leads us to the Unseen Land;
But trustingly, tho' tremblingly,
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
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One smile, and all my fears would flee:
One whisper, and the storm would cease;
And I should know Thee in the peace;
The door would ope; no dark could be.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
One whisper, and the storm would cease;
And I should know Thee in the peace;
The door would ope; no dark could be.
Dear Jesus, let me lean on Thee!
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JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN.
Jerusalem the Golden!
I weary for one Gleam
Of all thy glory folden
In distance and in dream!
My thoughts, like Palms in Exile,
Climb up to look and pray
For a glimpse of thy dear Country
That lies so far away!
I weary for one Gleam
Of all thy glory folden
In distance and in dream!
My thoughts, like Palms in Exile,
Climb up to look and pray
For a glimpse of thy dear Country
That lies so far away!
Jerusalem the Golden!
Methinks each flower that blows,
And every bird a-singing
Of thee some secret knows;
I know not what the Flowers
Can feel, or Singers see,
But all these summer raptures
Seem prophecies of thee.
Methinks each flower that blows,
And every bird a-singing
Of thee some secret knows;
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Can feel, or Singers see,
But all these summer raptures
Seem prophecies of thee.
Jerusalem the Golden!
When Sunset's in the West,
It seems thy gate of glory,
Thou City of the Blest!
And Midnight's starry torches
Thro' intermediate gloom,
Are waving with our welcome
To thy Eternal Home!
When Sunset's in the West,
It seems thy gate of glory,
Thou City of the Blest!
And Midnight's starry torches
Thro' intermediate gloom,
Are waving with our welcome
To thy Eternal Home!
Jerusalem the Golden!
Where loftily they sing,
O'er pain and sorrows olden
For ever triumphing;
Lowly may be the portal
And dark may be the door,
The Mansion is Immortal—
God's palace for His Poor!
Where loftily they sing,
O'er pain and sorrows olden
For ever triumphing;
Lowly may be the portal
And dark may be the door,
The Mansion is Immortal—
God's palace for His Poor!
Jerusalem the Golden!
There all our Birds that flew,—
Our Flowers but half unfolden,
Our Pearls that turned to dew,—
And all the glad life-music,
Now heard no longer here,
Shall come again to greet us
As we are drawing near.
There all our Birds that flew,—
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Our Pearls that turned to dew,—
And all the glad life-music,
Now heard no longer here,
Shall come again to greet us
As we are drawing near.
Jerusalem the Golden!
I toil on, day by day;
Heart-sore each night with longing,
I stretch my hands and pray,
That mid thy leaves of Healing,
My soul may find her nest;
Where the Wicked cease from troubling—
The Weary are at rest!
I toil on, day by day;
Heart-sore each night with longing,
I stretch my hands and pray,
That mid thy leaves of Healing,
My soul may find her nest;
Where the Wicked cease from troubling—
The Weary are at rest!
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POOR MAN'S SUNDAY.
The merry Birds are singing,
And from the fragrant sod
The Spirits of a thousand flowers
Go sweetly up to God:
While in His holy temple
We meet to praise and pray
With cheerful voice, and grateful heart,
This Summer Sabbath Day!
And from the fragrant sod
The Spirits of a thousand flowers
Go sweetly up to God:
While in His holy temple
We meet to praise and pray
With cheerful voice, and grateful heart,
This Summer Sabbath Day!
We thank thee, Lord, for one day
To look Heaven in the face!
The Poor have only Sunday;
The sweeter is the grace.
'Tis then they make the music
That sings their week away.
O, there's a sweetness infinite
In the Poor Man's Sabbath Day!
To look Heaven in the face!
The Poor have only Sunday;
The sweeter is the grace.
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That sings their week away.
O, there's a sweetness infinite
In the Poor Man's Sabbath Day!
'Tis as a burst of sunshine,
A tender fall of rain,
That set the barest life a-bloom;
Make old hearts young again.
The dry and dusty roadisde
With smiling flowers is gay;
'Tis open Heaven one day in seven,
The Poor Man's Sabbath Day!
A tender fall of rain,
That set the barest life a-bloom;
Make old hearts young again.
The dry and dusty roadisde
With smiling flowers is gay;
'Tis open Heaven one day in seven,
The Poor Man's Sabbath Day!
'Tis here the weary Pilgrim
Doth reach his House of Ease!
That blessëd House, called “Beautiful,”
And that soft Chamber, “Peace.”
The River of Life runs through his dream
And the leaves of Heaven are at play;
He sees the Golden City gleam,
This shining Sabbath Day!
Doth reach his House of Ease!
That blessëd House, called “Beautiful,”
And that soft Chamber, “Peace.”
The River of Life runs through his dream
And the leaves of Heaven are at play;
He sees the Golden City gleam,
This shining Sabbath Day!
Take heart, ye faint and fearful,
Your cross with courage bear;
So many a face now tearful
Shall shine in glory there;
Where all the sorrow is banisht,
The tears are wiped away;
And all eternity shall be
An endless Sabbath Day!
Your cross with courage bear;
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Shall shine in glory there;
Where all the sorrow is banisht,
The tears are wiped away;
And all eternity shall be
An endless Sabbath Day!
Ah! there are empty places,
Since last we mingled here!
There will be missing faces
When we meet another year!
But, heart to heart, before we part,
Now altogether pray
That we may meet in Heaven, to spend
The Eternal Sabbath Day!
Since last we mingled here!
There will be missing faces
When we meet another year!
But, heart to heart, before we part,
Now altogether pray
That we may meet in Heaven, to spend
The Eternal Sabbath Day!
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THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
Behold me standing at the door,
And hear me asking o'er and o'er,
With pleading voice above the din,
“May I come in? May I come in?”
And hear me asking o'er and o'er,
With pleading voice above the din,
“May I come in? May I come in?”
Wearing the cruel thorns for thee,
I listen long and patiently,
To hear the footstep from within,
“May I come in? May I come in?”
I listen long and patiently,
To hear the footstep from within,
“May I come in? May I come in?”
I fought for thee with Death's grim wave;
I burst his dungeons of the grave;
I would my rightful guerdon win,
“May I come in? May I come in?”
I burst his dungeons of the grave;
I would my rightful guerdon win,
“May I come in? May I come in?”
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Ye dream dark dreams alone by night,
And lo, I am the Living Light,
That smiles away all mists of sin.
“May I come in? May I come in?”
And lo, I am the Living Light,
That smiles away all mists of sin.
“May I come in? May I come in?”
There's surely room upon thy breast
For one more loving head to rest:
One empty place for kith and kin.
“May I come in? May I come in?”
For one more loving head to rest:
One empty place for kith and kin.
“May I come in? May I come in?”
I would not have thee beat in vain
Our Father's door and plead in pain,
When Heaven and all its joys begin.
“May I come in? May I come in?”
Our Father's door and plead in pain,
When Heaven and all its joys begin.
“May I come in? May I come in?”
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GOING TO SCHOOL.
On Sunday morning early,
While yet the grass is pearly,
The air is bright and cool;
All clad in our best graces,
With rosy morning faces,
We go to the Sunday School!
While yet the grass is pearly,
The air is bright and cool;
All clad in our best graces,
With rosy morning faces,
We go to the Sunday School!
To-day is Life in blossom:
Heartsease in every bosom,
And all is beautiful.
A spirit within us springing
At Heaven's gate will be singing
Thanks for the Sunday School!
Heartsease in every bosom,
And all is beautiful.
A spirit within us springing
At Heaven's gate will be singing
Thanks for the Sunday School!
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We sun us in its brightness;
We clothe us in its whiteness,
As doth the wayside pool,
That holds from Morn till Even,
Its little bit of Heaven—
The gladsome Sunday School!
We clothe us in its whiteness,
As doth the wayside pool,
That holds from Morn till Even,
Its little bit of Heaven—
The gladsome Sunday School!
Here learn we how to lighten
The heaviest lot, and brighten
The day most dark with dool,
And lay up Childhood's treasure,
To reap immortal pleasure
Even in a Sunday School!
The heaviest lot, and brighten
The day most dark with dool,
And lay up Childhood's treasure,
To reap immortal pleasure
Even in a Sunday School!
The summer Earth rejoices,
With hers we lift our voices,
And Heaven blends the whole.
And when God's Angels cover us,
Drawing the darkness over us,
They bless the Sunday School!
With hers we lift our voices,
And Heaven blends the whole.
And when God's Angels cover us,
Drawing the darkness over us,
They bless the Sunday School!
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PARENTS' PRAYER FOR THE CHILDREN.
Christ on Earth, in Heaven the King,
As we heard the Children sing,
How the thought within us smiled,
Thou wert once a little Child!
As we heard the Children sing,
How the thought within us smiled,
Thou wert once a little Child!
Hover near them, Heavenly Dove,
With thine overshadowing love;
Keep them pure and undefiled:
Thou wert once a little Child!
With thine overshadowing love;
Keep them pure and undefiled:
Thou wert once a little Child!
See them playing on the sands,
'Twixt two tides, with helpless hands;
Save them when the waves grow wild:
Thou wert once a little Child!
'Twixt two tides, with helpless hands;
Save them when the waves grow wild:
Thou wert once a little Child!
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Bless them in their joyousness;
Hear them, help them, in distress;
Be their Shepherd when beguiled;
Thou wert once a little Child!
Hear them, help them, in distress;
Be their Shepherd when beguiled;
Thou wert once a little Child!
Let their feet be firmly shod;
Let them not go back to God,
With immortal jewels soiled;
Thou wert once a little Child!
Let them not go back to God,
With immortal jewels soiled;
Thou wert once a little Child!
Take them, when the Peril's past,
To thy Father's Home at last;
He remembers, and is mild,
Thou wert once a little Child!
To thy Father's Home at last;
He remembers, and is mild,
Thou wert once a little Child!
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CHILDREN'S EVENING PRAYER.
Gracious Saviour! meekly crave your
Little Lambs their fold to-night;
Do Thou hear us, and be near us;
Thro' the darkness lead to light:
Fence our weakness with Thy might!
Little Lambs their fold to-night;
Do Thou hear us, and be near us;
Thro' the darkness lead to light:
Fence our weakness with Thy might!
Night is nearing! timid, fearing
Life is shrinking in its nest;
To Thy keeping take us sleeping,
Gentle Shepherd, in Thy breast,
Where we nestle and are blest!
Life is shrinking in its nest;
To Thy keeping take us sleeping,
Gentle Shepherd, in Thy breast,
Where we nestle and are blest!
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Thro' the nightfall may Thy Light fall
On us, safely hid apart,
When no change or passing danger
Clouds us, with Thy smile at heart.
Where the lambs are there Thou art!
On us, safely hid apart,
When no change or passing danger
Clouds us, with Thy smile at heart.
Where the lambs are there Thou art!
White mists wreathing their soft breathing,
Where the water-courses run,
From their hiding-place are gliding,
Hanging dew-drops one by one,
To be lighted by the sun!
Where the water-courses run,
From their hiding-place are gliding,
Hanging dew-drops one by one,
To be lighted by the sun!
We too kneeling for Thy healing,
Pray Thy dews may fall apace
In rich showers, that Thy Flowers
May uplift their morning face,
Glistening with Thy freshest grace.
Pray Thy dews may fall apace
In rich showers, that Thy Flowers
May uplift their morning face,
Glistening with Thy freshest grace.
May good Angels with evangels
Glad our slumbers by one gleam
Of their covering white wings, hovering
Down the ladder of our dream—
Soft the hardest pillow will seem!
Glad our slumbers by one gleam
Of their covering white wings, hovering
Down the ladder of our dream—
Soft the hardest pillow will seem!
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O Thou Solace of the weary;
O Thou Rest for all that roam;
Nightless Sunshine for the dreary;
For the Homeless endless home;
To Thy waiting arms we come!
O Thou Rest for all that roam;
Nightless Sunshine for the dreary;
For the Homeless endless home;
To Thy waiting arms we come!
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AND THEY SUNG A NEW SONG.
Hear what the Saint in solemn dream was shown
Thro' Heaven's own Gates of Gold;
He saw them standing by the great White Throne;
He heard their raptures roll'd!
Christ was the Sun of that new firmament,
And there was no more night,
While thro' the golden City harping went
The glorious all in white.
Thro' Heaven's own Gates of Gold;
He saw them standing by the great White Throne;
He heard their raptures roll'd!
Christ was the Sun of that new firmament,
And there was no more night,
While thro' the golden City harping went
The glorious all in white.
These, out of their great tribulation, came
To bow before the Throne!
These lifted up their foreheads from the flame
And by His name were known!
Some on the rack were living witnesses,
And many fell a-field;
But Christ did greet His Martyrs with a kiss,
And all their hurts were heal'd.
To bow before the Throne!
These lifted up their foreheads from the flame
And by His name were known!
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And many fell a-field;
But Christ did greet His Martyrs with a kiss,
And all their hurts were heal'd.
These had to wrestle with wild waves of strife,
Long ere they reach'd that shore
Where they at last have won the crowns of life
They wear for evermore.
There do they drink of Life's all-healing Stream,
And quench their thirst of years;
All star-like now the precious jewels gleam,
They sow'd on Earth as tears.
Long ere they reach'd that shore
Where they at last have won the crowns of life
They wear for evermore.
There do they drink of Life's all-healing Stream,
And quench their thirst of years;
All star-like now the precious jewels gleam,
They sow'd on Earth as tears.
Help us, O Lord, to reach that Better Land,
Afar from sorrow and sin,
And join that Blessed band all harp-in-hand,
All safe with Christ shut in.
Feeble and poor the songs we sing! at most,
Some selfish Prayer we raise;
While the white Harpers on that Heavenly coast,
Hymn everlasting Praise.
Afar from sorrow and sin,
And join that Blessed band all harp-in-hand,
All safe with Christ shut in.
Feeble and poor the songs we sing! at most,
Some selfish Prayer we raise;
While the white Harpers on that Heavenly coast,
Hymn everlasting Praise.
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THE ASPEN.
I went out into the wistful night,
Along with my little Daughter;
Down in the valley the weird Moonlight
With an Elfin shine lit the wan water.
Along with my little Daughter;
Down in the valley the weird Moonlight
With an Elfin shine lit the wan water.
The Trees stood dark in a flame of white;
A Nightingale sang in the stillness;
It seemed the husht heart of the sweet spring night
Brimmed over because of its fulness.
A Nightingale sang in the stillness;
It seemed the husht heart of the sweet spring night
Brimmed over because of its fulness.
Not a breath of air in the region wide;
Not a ripple upon the river;
Yet all of a sudden the Aspens sigh'd
And thro' all their leaves ran a shiver.
Not a ripple upon the river;
Yet all of a sudden the Aspens sigh'd
And thro' all their leaves ran a shiver.
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My darling she nestled quite close to me
For such shield as mine arms could give her;
“There went not the least waft of wind thro' the Tree;
Then why did the Aspens shiver?”
For such shield as mine arms could give her;
“There went not the least waft of wind thro' the Tree;
Then why did the Aspens shiver?”
I told her the tale, how, by Kedron's Brook
Our Saviour one evening wander'd;
A cloud came over His glorified look
As he paused by the way and ponder'd.
Our Saviour one evening wander'd;
A cloud came over His glorified look
As he paused by the way and ponder'd.
The trees felt his sighing; their heads all bow'd
Towards Him in solemn devotion,
Save the Aspen, that stood up so stately and proud;
It made neither murmur nor motion.
Towards Him in solemn devotion,
Save the Aspen, that stood up so stately and proud;
It made neither murmur nor motion.
Then the Holy One Lifted His face of pain:
“The Aspen shall quake and shiver,
From this time forth till I come again,
Whether growing by Brook or by River.”
“The Aspen shall quake and shiver,
From this time forth till I come again,
Whether growing by Brook or by River.”
And oft in the listening hush of night
The Aspen will secretly shiver;
With all its tremulous leaves turn white,
Like a guilty thing by the River.
The Aspen will secretly shiver;
With all its tremulous leaves turn white,
Like a guilty thing by the River.
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So the souls that look on His sorrow and pain
For their sake, and bow not, may quiver
Like Aspens, and quake when He comes again,
Thro' the night for ever, for ever!
For their sake, and bow not, may quiver
Like Aspens, and quake when He comes again,
Thro' the night for ever, for ever!
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POOR ELLEN.
This hard to die in Spring-time,
When, to mock our bitter need,
All life around runs over
In its fulness without heed:
New life for tiniest twig on tree,
New worlds of honey for the bee,
And not one drop of dew for me
Who perish as I plead.
When, to mock our bitter need,
All life around runs over
In its fulness without heed:
New life for tiniest twig on tree,
New worlds of honey for the bee,
And not one drop of dew for me
Who perish as I plead.
'Tis hard to die in Spring-time,
When it stirs the poorest clod;
The wee Wren lifts its little heart
In lusty songs to God;
And Summer comes with conquering march;
Her banners waving 'neath the arch
Of heaven, where I lie and parch—
Left dying by the road.
When it stirs the poorest clod;
The wee Wren lifts its little heart
In lusty songs to God;
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Her banners waving 'neath the arch
Of heaven, where I lie and parch—
Left dying by the road.
'Tis hard to die in Spring-time,
When the long blue days unfold,
And cowslip-coloured sunsets
Grow, like Heaven's own heart, pure gold!
Each breath of balm brings wave on wave
Of new life that would lift and lave
My Life, whose feel is of the grave,
And mingling with the mould.
When the long blue days unfold,
And cowslip-coloured sunsets
Grow, like Heaven's own heart, pure gold!
Each breath of balm brings wave on wave
Of new life that would lift and lave
My Life, whose feel is of the grave,
And mingling with the mould.
But sweet to die in Spring-time,
When these lustres of the sward,
And all the breaks of beauty
Wherewith Earth is daily starr'd,
For me are but the outside show,
All leading to the inner glow
Of that strange world to which I go—
For ever with the Lord.
When these lustres of the sward,
And all the breaks of beauty
Wherewith Earth is daily starr'd,
For me are but the outside show,
All leading to the inner glow
Of that strange world to which I go—
For ever with the Lord.
O sweet to die in Spring-time,
When I reach the promised Rest,
And feel His arm is round me—
Know I sink back on His breast:
His kisses close these poor dim eyes;
Soon I shall hear Him say “Arise,”
And, springing up with glad surprise,
Shall know Him and be blest.
When I reach the promised Rest,
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Know I sink back on His breast:
His kisses close these poor dim eyes;
Soon I shall hear Him say “Arise,”
And, springing up with glad surprise,
Shall know Him and be blest.
'Tis sweet to die in Spring-time,
For I feel my golden year
Of summer-time eternal
Is beginning even here!
“Poor Ellen!” now you say and sigh,
“Poor Ellen!” and to-morrow I
Shall say “Poor Mother!” and, from the sky,
Watch you, and wait you there.
For I feel my golden year
Of summer-time eternal
Is beginning even here!
“Poor Ellen!” now you say and sigh,
“Poor Ellen!” and to-morrow I
Shall say “Poor Mother!” and, from the sky,
Watch you, and wait you there.
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THE LIFE BEYOND.
Although its features fade in light of unimagined bliss,
We have shadowy revealings of the Better World in this.
We have shadowy revealings of the Better World in this.
A little glimpse, when Spring unveils her face and opes her eyes,
Of the Sleeping Beauty in the soul that wakes in Paradise.
Of the Sleeping Beauty in the soul that wakes in Paradise.
A little drop of Heaven in each diamond of the shower,
A breath of the Eternal in the fragrance of each flower!
A breath of the Eternal in the fragrance of each flower!
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A little low vibration in the warble of Night's bird,
Of the praises and the music that shall be hereafter heard!
Of the praises and the music that shall be hereafter heard!
A little whisper in the leaves that clap their hands and try
To glad the heart of man, and lift to Heaven his thankful eye!
To glad the heart of man, and lift to Heaven his thankful eye!
A little semblance mirror'd in old Ocean's smile or frown
Of His vast glory who doth bow the Heavens and come down!
Of His vast glory who doth bow the Heavens and come down!
A little symbol shining through the worlds that move at rest
On invisible foundations of the broad almighty breast!
On invisible foundations of the broad almighty breast!
A little hint that stirs and thrills the wings we fold within,
And tells of that full heaven yonder which must here begin!
And tells of that full heaven yonder which must here begin!
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A little springlet welling from the fountain-head above,
That takes its earthly way to find the ocean of all love!
That takes its earthly way to find the ocean of all love!
A little silver shiver in the ripple of the river
Caught from the light that knows no night for ever and for ever!
Caught from the light that knows no night for ever and for ever!
A little hidden likeness, often faded and defiled,
Of the great, the good All-father, in His poorest human child!
Of the great, the good All-father, in His poorest human child!
Although the best be lost in light of unimagined bliss,
We have shadowy revealings of the Better World in this.
We have shadowy revealings of the Better World in this.
268
A CRY IN THE NIGHT.
Dark,dark the night, and tearfully I grope,
Lost in the Shadows, feeling for the way,
But cannot find it. Here's no help, no hope,
And God is very far off with His day.
Lost in the Shadows, feeling for the way,
But cannot find it. Here's no help, no hope,
And God is very far off with His day.
Hush, hush, faint heart! why this may be thy chance,
When all is at the worst, to prove thy faith;
Stand still, and see His great Deliverance,
And trust Him at the darkest unto death.
When all is at the worst, to prove thy faith;
Stand still, and see His great Deliverance,
And trust Him at the darkest unto death.
Often upon the last grim ridge of war
God takes His stand to aid us in the fight;
He watches while we roll the tide afar,
And, beaten back, is near us with His might.
God takes His stand to aid us in the fight;
He watches while we roll the tide afar,
And, beaten back, is near us with His might.
269
We hear the Arrows in the dark go by:
The cowering soul no longer soars or sings,
Or it might know His presence then most nigh,
Our darkness being the Shadow of His wings.
The cowering soul no longer soars or sings,
Or it might know His presence then most nigh,
Our darkness being the Shadow of His wings.
No need of faith if all were visibly clear!
'Tis for the trial-time its help was given;
Tho' clouds be thick, the Sun is just as near
That shines within and makes the heart its heaven.
'Tis for the trial-time its help was given;
Tho' clouds be thick, the Sun is just as near
That shines within and makes the heart its heaven.
Amidst our wildest night of saddest woes,
When Earth is desolate—Heaven dark with doom,
Faith has its fire-flash of the soul that shows
The face of the Eternal thro' the gloom.
When Earth is desolate—Heaven dark with doom,
Faith has its fire-flash of the soul that shows
The face of the Eternal thro' the gloom.
270
A SONG IN THE MORNING.
Awake, poor Soul, the Shadows flee,
Dawn kindles in the sky,
Lift up the drooping head, and see
Redemption draweth nigh!
Dawn kindles in the sky,
Lift up the drooping head, and see
Redemption draweth nigh!
A little further we must bear
The load, and do our best;
Then take immortal solace where
The Weary are at rest.
The load, and do our best;
Then take immortal solace where
The Weary are at rest.
A few more Meetings on the Deep,
And partings on the shore;
And then in Heaven at last we keep
Our tryst for evermore.
And partings on the shore;
And then in Heaven at last we keep
Our tryst for evermore.
271
And we shall see the lifted head
Once bowed to show His face;
And feel the arms in death He spread,
Close round us in embrace!
Once bowed to show His face;
And feel the arms in death He spread,
Close round us in embrace!
The Devil, standing in our light,
And darkening all our day,
Shall wave his wings for final flight;
His shadow pass away.
And darkening all our day,
Shall wave his wings for final flight;
His shadow pass away.
Our Pilgrimage will soon be past,
Our worst afflictions borne;
Some weary Night, 'twill be our last,
And then Eternal Morn.
Our worst afflictions borne;
Some weary Night, 'twill be our last,
And then Eternal Morn.
272
HIS BANNER OVER ME.
Surrounded by unnumber'd Foes,
Against my soul the battle goes!
Yet tho' I weary, sore distress'd,
I know that I shall reach my Rest:
I lift my tearful eyes above,—
His Banner over me is Love.
Against my soul the battle goes!
Yet tho' I weary, sore distress'd,
I know that I shall reach my Rest:
I lift my tearful eyes above,—
His Banner over me is Love.
Its Sword my spirit will not yield,
Tho' flesh may faint upon the field;
He waves before my fading sight
The branch of palm—the crown of light;
I lift my brightening eyes above,—
His Banner over me is Love.
Tho' flesh may faint upon the field;
He waves before my fading sight
The branch of palm—the crown of light;
I lift my brightening eyes above,—
His Banner over me is Love.
273
My cloud of battle-dust may dim;
His veil of splendour curtain Him!
And in the midnight of my fear
I may not feel Him standing near:
But, as I lift mine eyes above,
His Banner over me is Love.
His veil of splendour curtain Him!
And in the midnight of my fear
I may not feel Him standing near:
But, as I lift mine eyes above,
His Banner over me is Love.
279
COUSIN WINNIE.
The glad spring-green grows luminous,
With coming Summer's golden glow;
Merry Birds sing as they sang to us
In far-off seasons, long ago:
The old place brings the young Dawn back,
That moist eyes mirage in their dew;
My heart goes forth along the track
Where oft it danced, dear Winnie, with you.
A world of Time, a sea of change,
Have rolled between the paths we tread,
Since you were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
With coming Summer's golden glow;
Merry Birds sing as they sang to us
In far-off seasons, long ago:
The old place brings the young Dawn back,
That moist eyes mirage in their dew;
My heart goes forth along the track
Where oft it danced, dear Winnie, with you.
A world of Time, a sea of change,
Have rolled between the paths we tread,
Since you were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
292
There's where I nearly broke my neck,
Climbing for nests! and hid my pain:
And then I thought your heart would break,
To have the Birds put back again.
Yonder, with lordliest tenderness,
I carried you across the Brook;
So happy in my arms to press
You, triumphing in your timid look:
So lovingly you leaned to mine
Your cheek of sweet and dusky red:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
Climbing for nests! and hid my pain:
And then I thought your heart would break,
To have the Birds put back again.
Yonder, with lordliest tenderness,
I carried you across the Brook;
So happy in my arms to press
You, triumphing in your timid look:
So lovingly you leaned to mine
Your cheek of sweet and dusky red:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
My Being in your presence bask'd,
And kitten-like for pleasure purr'd;
A higher heaven I never ask'd,
Than watching, wistful as a bird,
To hear that voice so rich and low;
Or sun me in the rosy rise
Of some soul-ripening smile, and know
The thrill of opening paradise.
The Boy might look too tenderly,
All lightly 'twas interpreted:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
And kitten-like for pleasure purr'd;
A higher heaven I never ask'd,
Than watching, wistful as a bird,
To hear that voice so rich and low;
Or sun me in the rosy rise
Of some soul-ripening smile, and know
The thrill of opening paradise.
The Boy might look too tenderly,
All lightly 'twas interpreted:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
293
Ay me, but I remember how
I felt the heart-break, bitterly,
When the Well-handle smote your brow,
Because the blow fell not on me!
Such holy longing fill'd my life,
I could have died, Dear, for your sake;
But, never thought of you as Wife;
A cure to clasp for love's heart-ache.
You enter'd my soul's temple, Dear,
Something to worship, not to wed:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
I felt the heart-break, bitterly,
When the Well-handle smote your brow,
Because the blow fell not on me!
Such holy longing fill'd my life,
I could have died, Dear, for your sake;
But, never thought of you as Wife;
A cure to clasp for love's heart-ache.
You enter'd my soul's temple, Dear,
Something to worship, not to wed:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
I saw you, heaven on heaven higher,
Grow into stately womanhood;
Your beauty kindling with the fire
That swims in proud old English blood.
Away from me,—a radiant Joy!
You soar'd; fit for a Hero's bride:
While I a Man in soul, a Boy
In stature, shiver'd at your side!
You saw not how the poor wee Love
Pined dumbly, and thus doubly pled:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
Grow into stately womanhood;
Your beauty kindling with the fire
That swims in proud old English blood.
Away from me,—a radiant Joy!
You soar'd; fit for a Hero's bride:
While I a Man in soul, a Boy
In stature, shiver'd at your side!
You saw not how the poor wee Love
Pined dumbly, and thus doubly pled:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
294
And then that other voice came in!
There my Life's music suddenly stopp'd.
Silence and darkness fell between
Us, and my Star from heaven dropp'd.
I led Him by the hand to you—
He was my Friend—whose name you bear:
I had prayed for some great task to do,
To prove my love. I did it, Dear!
He was not jealous of poor me;
Nor saw my life bleed under his tread:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
There my Life's music suddenly stopp'd.
Silence and darkness fell between
Us, and my Star from heaven dropp'd.
I led Him by the hand to you—
He was my Friend—whose name you bear:
I had prayed for some great task to do,
To prove my love. I did it, Dear!
He was not jealous of poor me;
Nor saw my life bleed under his tread:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
I smiled, Dear, at your happiness—
So Martyrs smile upon the spears—
The smile of your reflected bliss
Flasht from my heart's dark tarn of tears!
In love, that made the suffering sweet,
My blessing with the rest was given—
“God's softest flowers kiss her feet
On Earth, and crown Her head in Heaven.”
And lest the heart should leap to tell
Its tale i' the eyes, I bow'd the head:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
So Martyrs smile upon the spears—
The smile of your reflected bliss
Flasht from my heart's dark tarn of tears!
In love, that made the suffering sweet,
My blessing with the rest was given—
“God's softest flowers kiss her feet
On Earth, and crown Her head in Heaven.”
And lest the heart should leap to tell
Its tale i' the eyes, I bow'd the head:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
295
I do not blame you, Darling mine;
You could not know the love that lurkt
To make my life so intertwine
With yours, and with mute mystery workt.
And, had you known, how distantly
Your calm eyes would have lookt it down,
Darkling with all the majesty
Of Midnight wearing her star-crown!
Into its virgin veil of cloud,
The startled dearness would have fled.
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
You could not know the love that lurkt
To make my life so intertwine
With yours, and with mute mystery workt.
And, had you known, how distantly
Your calm eyes would have lookt it down,
Darkling with all the majesty
Of Midnight wearing her star-crown!
Into its virgin veil of cloud,
The startled dearness would have fled.
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
I stretch my hand across the years;
Feel, Dear, the heart still pulses true:
I have often dropp'd internal tears,
Thinking the kindest thoughts of you.
I have fought like one in iron, they said,
Who through the battle follow'd me.
I struck the blows for you, and bled
Within my armour secretly.
Not caring for the cheers, my heart
Far into the golden time had fled:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
Feel, Dear, the heart still pulses true:
I have often dropp'd internal tears,
Thinking the kindest thoughts of you.
I have fought like one in iron, they said,
Who through the battle follow'd me.
I struck the blows for you, and bled
Within my armour secretly.
Not caring for the cheers, my heart
Far into the golden time had fled:
You were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
296
I sometimes see you in my dreams,
Asking for aid I may not give:
Down from your eyes the sorrow streams,
And helplessly I look and grieve
At arms that toss with wild heartache,
And secrets writhing to be told:
I start to hear your voice, and wake.
There's nothing but the moaning cold!
Sometimes I pillow in mine arms
The darling little rosy head.
You are my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Am your “own little, good little Ned.”
Asking for aid I may not give:
Down from your eyes the sorrow streams,
And helplessly I look and grieve
At arms that toss with wild heartache,
And secrets writhing to be told:
I start to hear your voice, and wake.
There's nothing but the moaning cold!
Sometimes I pillow in mine arms
The darling little rosy head.
You are my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Am your “own little, good little Ned.”
I wear the name of Hero now,
And flowers at my feet are cast;
I feel the crown about my brow—
So keen the thorns that hold it fast!
Ay me, and I would rather wear
The cooling green and luminous glow
Of one you made with Cowslips, Dear,
A many golden Springs ago.
Your gentle fingers did not give
This ache of heart, this throb of head,
When you were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
And flowers at my feet are cast;
I feel the crown about my brow—
So keen the thorns that hold it fast!
Ay me, and I would rather wear
The cooling green and luminous glow
Of one you made with Cowslips, Dear,
A many golden Springs ago.
Your gentle fingers did not give
This ache of heart, this throb of head,
When you were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
297
Unwearying, lonely, year by year,
I go on laying up my love.
I think God makes no promise here
But it shall be fulfilled above;
I think my wild weed of the waste
Will one day prove a flower most sweet;
My love shall bear its fruit at last—
'Twill all be righted when we meet;
And I shall find them gather'd up
In pearls for you—the tears I've shed
Since you were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
I go on laying up my love.
I think God makes no promise here
But it shall be fulfilled above;
I think my wild weed of the waste
Will one day prove a flower most sweet;
My love shall bear its fruit at last—
'Twill all be righted when we meet;
And I shall find them gather'd up
In pearls for you—the tears I've shed
Since you were my “Cousin Winnie,” and I
Was your “own little, good little Ned.”
355
SONGS AND OTHER BREVITIES.
367
LOFTY AND LOWLY.
I love a lady all so far aboveMe, she can never hear the name of love;
I only whisper to my heart in low
Dark sayings what my lady must not know;
But, had I only a minute's space to live,
And she beside me, I would pray her give
Me on the mouth one dear and holy kiss;
And straightway a warm stream of paradise
Would gush and gladden all the gulf of death,
A calm of blessëd faces take mine eyes;
A hurricane of harpings take my breath:
All heavën would bend brooding down to meet
Me, in that gracious stooping of my Sweet;
And, at her touch, my soul should enter bliss.
368
HEIGH-HO!
Heigh-ho! She will never be mine:
Never! never. I know
The grasp of gold
My Jewel will hold:
She is Lofty and I am Low.
Never! never. I know
The grasp of gold
My Jewel will hold:
She is Lofty and I am Low.
Heigh-ho! but my heart like a Bird
On wings of the night will go,
To make its love-nest
In that heaven of her breast,
'Neath the heaven of her eyes all aglow.
On wings of the night will go,
To make its love-nest
In that heaven of her breast,
'Neath the heaven of her eyes all aglow.
Heigh-ho! in dreams she is mine,
All mine: and how can I know
But she loves me in dream,
With no drawn sword a-gleam,
'Twixt the kissing of Lofty and Low?
All mine: and how can I know
But she loves me in dream,
With no drawn sword a-gleam,
'Twixt the kissing of Lofty and Low?
371
HOME SONG.
The Larch is snooding her tresses
In a twine of the daintiest green;
With fresh spring-breath the Hawthorn heaves
His breast to the sunny sheen.
A shower of spring-green sprinkles the Lime;
A shower of spring-gold the Broom;
And each rathe tint of the tender time
Wakes the wish that my Lady were Home.
In a twine of the daintiest green;
With fresh spring-breath the Hawthorn heaves
His breast to the sunny sheen.
A shower of spring-green sprinkles the Lime;
A shower of spring-gold the Broom;
And each rathe tint of the tender time
Wakes the wish that my Lady were Home.
In the Coppice, the dear Primroses
Are the smile of each dim green nook,
Gravely gladsome; sunny but cool
With the sound of the gurgling brook.
And by the wayside, in a burst of delight,
From the world of fairy and gnome,
All the flowers are crowding to see the sight
At their windows. My Lady come Home!
Are the smile of each dim green nook,
Gravely gladsome; sunny but cool
With the sound of the gurgling brook.
372
From the world of fairy and gnome,
All the flowers are crowding to see the sight
At their windows. My Lady come Home!
The Country's growing glorious
Quietly day by day;
The colour of April comes and goes
In a blush to meet the May.
And the spring-rains steal from their heaven of shade,
In a veil of tender gloam,
With a splendid sparkle for every blade.
Dear my Lady come Home!
Quietly day by day;
The colour of April comes and goes
In a blush to meet the May.
And the spring-rains steal from their heaven of shade,
In a veil of tender gloam,
With a splendid sparkle for every blade.
Dear my Lady come Home!
The Spirit of Gladness floating
Goes up in a sound of song:
Robin sings in the rich eve-lights;
The Throstle all day long:
The Lark in his heaven that soars above
Each morn with a distant dome;
All sweet! but sweeter the voice we love.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
Goes up in a sound of song:
Robin sings in the rich eve-lights;
The Throstle all day long:
The Lark in his heaven that soars above
Each morn with a distant dome;
All sweet! but sweeter the voice we love.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
373
Your Apple-blooms are fragrant
Beyond the breath of the South;
Every bud, for an airy kiss,
Is lifting a rosy wee mouth.
A greener glory hour by hour,
And a peep of ruddier bloom,
But the leafy world waiteth its human flower.
Dear my Lady come Home!
Beyond the breath of the South;
Every bud, for an airy kiss,
Is lifting a rosy wee mouth.
A greener glory hour by hour,
And a peep of ruddier bloom,
But the leafy world waiteth its human flower.
Dear my Lady come Home!
Our thoughts are as the Violets
Around the Ash-tree root,
That breathe the earliest hints of Spring
At their lofty lady's foot,
And wonder why she still delays—
When the sea of life is a-foam
With flowers—to crown her in these glad days.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
Around the Ash-tree root,
That breathe the earliest hints of Spring
At their lofty lady's foot,
And wonder why she still delays—
When the sea of life is a-foam
With flowers—to crown her in these glad days.
Come Home, my Lady, come Home!
Come! feel the deepening dearness
About the grand old place.
Come! let us see the cordial smile
Once more in our Lady's face.
Winter was dreary: of waiting we weary:
Best of all joy-bringers, come!
Spread bonny white sails! blow balmy spring-gales!
And bring my Lady Home!
About the grand old place.
Come! let us see the cordial smile
Once more in our Lady's face.
374
Best of all joy-bringers, come!
Spread bonny white sails! blow balmy spring-gales!
And bring my Lady Home!
375
THE WHITE CHILD.
Mothers of Children three;
Two of them ruddy with glee;
One your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I peer in her tender face,
And I fear that its light of grace
Is too still and too starry a birth
For our noisy, dim dwellings of Earth.
She looks like a natural Child
Of the heavens—too lustrous, too mild
For us. Other Roses are blowing
While mine seems up-folding and going,—
Dreamily happy in going.
Yet on it more soft is the thorn
Than the tiniest little snail's-horn,
And golden at heart is the Morn
Of a day that may never be born.
Two of them ruddy with glee;
One your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I peer in her tender face,
And I fear that its light of grace
Is too still and too starry a birth
For our noisy, dim dwellings of Earth.
She looks like a natural Child
Of the heavens—too lustrous, too mild
For us. Other Roses are blowing
While mine seems up-folding and going,—
Dreamily happy in going.
376
Than the tiniest little snail's-horn,
And golden at heart is the Morn
Of a day that may never be born.
Just a spirit of light is my Girl,
Seen thro' a body of pearl;
A spirit of life that will fleet
Away, more on wings than on feet.
Her cheek is so waxenly thin,
As if deathward 'twere whitening in,
And the cloud of her flesh, still more white,
Were clearing till soul is in sight.
She leans as the wind-flowers stoop;
All their loveliness seen as they droop!
Her eyes have the sweet native hue
Of the heaven they are melting into,
Blue as the Violets above
The grave of some tender babe-love
That back to us wistfully bring
The buried blue eyes with the Spring.
Her large eyes too liquidly glister!
Her mouth is too red.
Seen thro' a body of pearl;
A spirit of life that will fleet
Away, more on wings than on feet.
Her cheek is so waxenly thin,
As if deathward 'twere whitening in,
And the cloud of her flesh, still more white,
Were clearing till soul is in sight.
She leans as the wind-flowers stoop;
All their loveliness seen as they droop!
Her eyes have the sweet native hue
Of the heaven they are melting into,
Blue as the Violets above
The grave of some tender babe-love
That back to us wistfully bring
The buried blue eyes with the Spring.
Her large eyes too liquidly glister!
Her mouth is too red.
377
Have they kissed her—
The Angels that bend down to pull
Our buds of the Beautiful,
And whispered their own little Sister?
The Angels that bend down to pull
Our buds of the Beautiful,
And whispered their own little Sister?
O Mothers of Children three!
Two of them bright of blee;
One, your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I think I could give half her wealth
Of heaven for a little more health:
The halo of Saints for the simple
Blithe graces that dip in a dimple!
Nay, I feel in my heart I could revel
To see but a wee dash of devil;
A touch of the old Adam in her;
A glimpse of his fair fellow-sinner;
Any likeness of earth that would give
Me a promise my Darling should live.
O my love! O my life! O my Maker,
Take me too, if Thou must take her!
Two of them bright of blee;
One, your White Child, your pearl!
Do you feel as I feel with my Girl?
For I think I could give half her wealth
Of heaven for a little more health:
The halo of Saints for the simple
Blithe graces that dip in a dimple!
Nay, I feel in my heart I could revel
To see but a wee dash of devil;
A touch of the old Adam in her;
A glimpse of his fair fellow-sinner;
Any likeness of earth that would give
Me a promise my Darling should live.
O my love! O my life! O my Maker,
Take me too, if Thou must take her!
382
AN APOLOGUE.
In the olden day when Immortals
Came oftener visibly down,
There went a Youth with an Angel
Thro' the gate of an Eastern Town:
They passed a Dog by the road-side,
Where dead and rotting it lay,
And the Youth, at the ghastly odour,
Sickened and turned away.
He gathered his robes about him
And hastily hurried thence:
But nought annoyed the Angel's
Clear, pure, immortal sense.
Came oftener visibly down,
There went a Youth with an Angel
Thro' the gate of an Eastern Town:
They passed a Dog by the road-side,
Where dead and rotting it lay,
And the Youth, at the ghastly odour,
Sickened and turned away.
He gathered his robes about him
And hastily hurried thence:
But nought annoyed the Angel's
Clear, pure, immortal sense.
383
By came a lady, lip-luscious,
On delicate tinkling feet:
All the place grew glad with her presence,
The air about her sweet;
For she came in fragrance floating,
And her voice most silverly rang;
The Youth, to embrace her beauty,
With all his being sprang.
A sweet, delightsome Lady:
And yet the Legend saith,
The Angel, while he passed her,
Shuddered and held his breath.
On delicate tinkling feet:
All the place grew glad with her presence,
The air about her sweet;
For she came in fragrance floating,
And her voice most silverly rang;
The Youth, to embrace her beauty,
With all his being sprang.
A sweet, delightsome Lady:
And yet the Legend saith,
The Angel, while he passed her,
Shuddered and held his breath.
386
MY NEIGHBOUR.
“Love
thou thy Neighbour,” we are told,
“Even as Thyself.” That creed I hold;
But love her more, a thousand-fold!
“Even as Thyself.” That creed I hold;
But love her more, a thousand-fold!
My lovely Neighbour; oft we meet
In lonely lane, or crowded street;
I know the music of her feet.
In lonely lane, or crowded street;
I know the music of her feet.
She little thinks how, on a day,
She must have missed her usual way,
And walked into my heart for aye:
She must have missed her usual way,
And walked into my heart for aye:
Or how the rustle of her dress
Thrills thro' me like a soft caress,
With trembles of deliciousness.
Thrills thro' me like a soft caress,
With trembles of deliciousness.
387
Wee woman, with her smiling mien,
And soul celestially serene,
She passes me, unconscious Queen!
And soul celestially serene,
She passes me, unconscious Queen!
Her face most innocently good,
Where shyly peeps the sweet red blood:
Her form a nest of Womanhood!
Where shyly peeps the sweet red blood:
Her form a nest of Womanhood!
Like Raleigh—for her dainty tread,
When ways are miry—I could spread
My cloak, but, there's my heart instead.
When ways are miry—I could spread
My cloak, but, there's my heart instead.
Ah, Neighbour, you will never know
Why 'tis my step is quickened so;
Nor what the prayer I murmur low.
Why 'tis my step is quickened so;
Nor what the prayer I murmur low.
I see you 'mid your flowers at morn,
Fresh as the rosebud newly born;
I marvel, can you have a thorn?
Fresh as the rosebud newly born;
I marvel, can you have a thorn?
If so, 'twere sweet to lean one's breast
Against it, and, the more it prest,
Sing like the Bird that sorrow hath blest.
Against it, and, the more it prest,
Sing like the Bird that sorrow hath blest.
388
I hear you sing! And thro' me Spring
Doth musically ripple and ring;
Little you think I'm listening!
Doth musically ripple and ring;
Little you think I'm listening!
You know not, dear, how dear you be;
All dearer for the secrecy:
Nothing, and yet a world to me.
All dearer for the secrecy:
Nothing, and yet a world to me.
So near, too! you could hear me sigh,
Or see my case with half an eye;
But must not. There are reasons why.
Or see my case with half an eye;
But must not. There are reasons why.
391
A LETTER IN BLACK.
A floating on the fragrant flood
Of Summer—fuller hour by hour;
All the Spring-sweetness of the bud
Crowned by the glory of the flower,—
My spirits with the season flowed.
The air was all a breathing balm;
The lake in flame of sapphire glowed;
The mountains lay in cloudless calm:
Of Summer—fuller hour by hour;
All the Spring-sweetness of the bud
Crowned by the glory of the flower,—
My spirits with the season flowed.
The air was all a breathing balm;
The lake in flame of sapphire glowed;
The mountains lay in cloudless calm:
Green leaves were lusty; roses blusht
For pleasure in the golden time;
The birds thro' all their feathers flusht
For gladness of their marriage-prime:
Listless among the lilies I threw
Me down, for coolness 'mid the sheen:
Heaven, one large smile of brooding blue;
Earth, one large smile of basking green.
For pleasure in the golden time;
The birds thro' all their feathers flusht
For gladness of their marriage-prime:
392
Me down, for coolness 'mid the sheen:
Heaven, one large smile of brooding blue;
Earth, one large smile of basking green.
A rich suspended shower of gold
Laburnum o'er me hung its crown:
You look up heavenward and behold
It glowing, coming in glory down!
There, as my thoughts of greenness grew
To fruitage of a leafy dream—
There, friend, your letter thrilled me thro',
And from the summer died the gleam.
Laburnum o'er me hung its crown:
You look up heavenward and behold
It glowing, coming in glory down!
There, as my thoughts of greenness grew
To fruitage of a leafy dream—
There, friend, your letter thrilled me thro',
And from the summer died the gleam.
The world, so pleasant to the sight,
So full of voices blithe and brave,
And all her lamps of beauty alight
With life! I had forgot the Grave;
And there it opened at my feet,
Revealing a familiar face
Upturned, my whitened look to meet,
And very patient in its place.
So full of voices blithe and brave,
And all her lamps of beauty alight
With life! I had forgot the Grave;
And there it opened at my feet,
Revealing a familiar face
Upturned, my whitened look to meet,
And very patient in its place.
393
My poor bereaven friend! I know
Not how to word it, but would bring
A little solace for your woe,
A little love for comforting.
And yet the best that I can say
Will only help to sum your loss.
I can but look above and pray—
“God help my friend to bear his Cross.”
Not how to word it, but would bring
A little solace for your woe,
A little love for comforting.
And yet the best that I can say
Will only help to sum your loss.
I can but look above and pray—
“God help my friend to bear his Cross.”
I have felt something of your smart,
And lost the dearest thing e'er wound
In love about a human heart:
I too have life-roots under ground.
From out my soul hath leapt a cry
For help! Nor God Himself could save.
And tears yet run that nought will dry
Save Death's hand with the dust o' the grave.
And lost the dearest thing e'er wound
In love about a human heart:
I too have life-roots under ground.
From out my soul hath leapt a cry
For help! Nor God Himself could save.
And tears yet run that nought will dry
Save Death's hand with the dust o' the grave.
God knows, and we may one day know,
These hidden secrets of His love!
But now the stillness stuns us so;
Darkly as in a dream we move:
The glad life-pulses come and go
Over our head and at our feet:
Soft airs are sighing something low;
The flowers are saying something sweet.
These hidden secrets of His love!
But now the stillness stuns us so;
Darkly as in a dream we move:
394
Over our head and at our feet:
Soft airs are sighing something low;
The flowers are saying something sweet.
And 'tis a merry world. The Lark
Is singing over the green corn.
Only the house and heart are dark;
Only the human world forlorn.
There, in the bridal-chamber lies
A dear bed-fellow all in white:
That purple shadow under the eyes
Where star-fire swam in liquid night.
Is singing over the green corn.
Only the house and heart are dark;
Only the human world forlorn.
There, in the bridal-chamber lies
A dear bed-fellow all in white:
That purple shadow under the eyes
Where star-fire swam in liquid night.
Sweet, slippery silver of her talk;
The music of her laugh so dear,
Heard in home-ways and wedded walk
For many and many a golden year:
The singing soul and shining face,
Daisy-like glad by roughest road;
Gone! with a thousand dearnesses
That hid themselves for us and glowed.
The music of her laugh so dear,
Heard in home-ways and wedded walk
For many and many a golden year:
The singing soul and shining face,
Daisy-like glad by roughest road;
Gone! with a thousand dearnesses
That hid themselves for us and glowed.
395
The waiting Angel, patient Wife,
All thro' the battle at our side;
That smiled her sweetness on our strife
For gain, and it was sanctified.
When waves of trouble beat breast-high,
And the heart sank, she poured a balm
That stilled them: and the saddest sky
Made clear and starry with her calm.
All thro' the battle at our side;
That smiled her sweetness on our strife
For gain, and it was sanctified.
When waves of trouble beat breast-high,
And the heart sank, she poured a balm
That stilled them: and the saddest sky
Made clear and starry with her calm.
And when the world with harvest ripe
In all its golden fulness lay;
And God, it seem'd, saw fit to wipe,
Even on earth, all tears away:
The good true heart that bravely won,
Must smile up in our face and fall;
And all our happy days are done.
And this the end! And is this all?
In all its golden fulness lay;
And God, it seem'd, saw fit to wipe,
Even on earth, all tears away:
The good true heart that bravely won,
Must smile up in our face and fall;
And all our happy days are done.
And this the end! And is this all?
The bloom of bliss the secret glow,
That clothed without and inly curled,
All gone. We are left shivering now,
Naked to the wide open world:
A shrivelled, withered world it is,
So sad, and miserably cold;
Where be its vaunted braveries?
Grown gray and miserably old!
That clothed without and inly curled,
All gone. We are left shivering now,
Naked to the wide open world:
396
So sad, and miserably cold;
Where be its vaunted braveries?
Grown gray and miserably old!
Our joy was all a drunken dream.
This is the truth at waking! We
Are swept out rootless by the stream
And current of calamity—
Out on some lone and shoreless sea
Of solitude so vast and deep,
As 'twere the wrong Eternity
Where God is not, or gone to sleep.
This is the truth at waking! We
Are swept out rootless by the stream
And current of calamity—
Out on some lone and shoreless sea
Of solitude so vast and deep,
As 'twere the wrong Eternity
Where God is not, or gone to sleep.
It seems as tho' our Darling dead,
Startled at Death's so sudden call,
With falling hands and dear bowed head
Had, like a flower-filled lap, let fall
A hoard of treasures we have found
Too late! So slow doth wisdom come!
We for the first time look around
Remembering this is not our Home.
Startled at Death's so sudden call,
With falling hands and dear bowed head
Had, like a flower-filled lap, let fall
A hoard of treasures we have found
Too late! So slow doth wisdom come!
We for the first time look around
Remembering this is not our Home.
397
My friend, I see you with your cup
Of tears and trembling—see you sit;
And long to help you drink it up,
With useless longings infinite—
Sit rocking the old mournful thought,
That on the heart's-blood will be nurst,
Unless the blessëd tears be brought;
Unless the cloudy sorrows burst!
Of tears and trembling—see you sit;
And long to help you drink it up,
With useless longings infinite—
Sit rocking the old mournful thought,
That on the heart's-blood will be nurst,
Unless the blessëd tears be brought;
Unless the cloudy sorrows burst!
The little ones are gone to rest,
And for a-while they will not miss
The Mother-wings above the nest;
But thro' their slumber slides her kiss,
And, dreaming she has come, they start
And toss wild arms for her caress,
With moanings that must thrill a heart
In heaven with divine distress.
And for a-while they will not miss
The Mother-wings above the nest;
But thro' their slumber slides her kiss,
And, dreaming she has come, they start
And toss wild arms for her caress,
With moanings that must thrill a heart
In heaven with divine distress.
And Sorrow on your threshold stands,
The Dark Ladye in gloomy pall:
I see her take you by the hands;
I feel her shadow over all.
Hers is no warm and tender clasp!
With silence solemn as the Night's,
And veilëd face, and spirit-grasp,
She leads her Chosen up the heights:
The Dark Ladye in gloomy pall:
I see her take you by the hands;
I feel her shadow over all.
398
With silence solemn as the Night's,
And veilëd face, and spirit-grasp,
She leads her Chosen up the heights:
The cloudy crags are cold and gray:
You cannot scale them without scars:
So many Martyrs by the way
Who never reacht her tower of stars!
But there her beauty shall be seen;
Her glittering face so proudly pure;
And all her majesty of mien;
And all her guerdon shall be sure.
You cannot scale them without scars:
So many Martyrs by the way
Who never reacht her tower of stars!
But there her beauty shall be seen;
Her glittering face so proudly pure;
And all her majesty of mien;
And all her guerdon shall be sure.
Well. 'Tis not written, God will give
To His Belovëd only rest.
The hard life of the Cross they live,
They strive, and suffer, and are blest.
The feet must bleed to reach their throne;
The brow must burn before it bear
One of the crowns that may be won
By workers, for immortal wear.
To His Belovëd only rest.
The hard life of the Cross they live,
They strive, and suffer, and are blest.
The feet must bleed to reach their throne;
The brow must burn before it bear
One of the crowns that may be won
By workers, for immortal wear.
399
Dear friend, life beats tho' buried 'neath
Its long black vault of night! And see,
There trembles thro' this dark of death,
Starlight of immortality!
And yet shall dawn the eternal day
To kiss the eyes of them that sleep;
And He shall wipe all tears away
From tired eyes of them that weep.
Its long black vault of night! And see,
There trembles thro' this dark of death,
Starlight of immortality!
And yet shall dawn the eternal day
To kiss the eyes of them that sleep;
And He shall wipe all tears away
From tired eyes of them that weep.
'Tis something for the poor bereaven,
In such a weary world of care,
To think that we have friends in heaven;
Who helpt us here, may aid us there!
These yearnings for them set our Arc
Of Being widening more and more,
In circling sweep thro' outer dark
To day more perfect than before.
In such a weary world of care,
To think that we have friends in heaven;
Who helpt us here, may aid us there!
These yearnings for them set our Arc
Of Being widening more and more,
In circling sweep thro' outer dark
To day more perfect than before.
So much was left unsaid. The soul
Must live in other worlds to be;
On earth we cannot grasp the whole,
For that Love has eternity.
Love deep as death and rich as rest;
Love that was love with all Love's might;
Level to needs the lowliest;
Cannot be less Love at full-height!
Must live in other worlds to be;
On earth we cannot grasp the whole,
For that Love has eternity.
400
Love that was love with all Love's might;
Level to needs the lowliest;
Cannot be less Love at full-height!
Tho' earthly forms be far apart,
Spirit to spirit nestles nigher;
The music chords the same at heart
Tho' one voice range an octave higher.
Eyes watch us that we cannot see;
Lips warn us which we may not kiss;
They wait for us, and starrily
Lean towards us from Heaven's lattices.
Spirit to spirit nestles nigher;
The music chords the same at heart
Tho' one voice range an octave higher.
Eyes watch us that we cannot see;
Lips warn us which we may not kiss;
They wait for us, and starrily
Lean towards us from Heaven's lattices.
We cannot see them face to face,
But love is nearness. And they love
Us yet, nor change, with change of place,
In their more steadfast world above,
Where love, once leal, hath never ceased,
And dear eyes never lose their shine,
And there shall be a Marriage Feast,
Where Christ shall once more make the wine.
But love is nearness. And they love
Us yet, nor change, with change of place,
In their more steadfast world above,
Where love, once leal, hath never ceased,
And dear eyes never lose their shine,
And there shall be a Marriage Feast,
Where Christ shall once more make the wine.
401
OUR MAID MARIAN.
Spring comes with violet eyes unveiled,
Her fragrant lips apart;
And Earth smiles up as tho' she held
Most honeyed thoughts at heart.
But nevermore will Spring arise
Dancing in sparkles of her eyes.
Her fragrant lips apart;
And Earth smiles up as tho' she held
Most honeyed thoughts at heart.
But nevermore will Spring arise
Dancing in sparkles of her eyes.
A gracious wind low-breathing comes
From out the fields of God;
The old lost Eden newly blooms
From out the sunny sod.
My buried joy stirs with the earth,
And tries to sun its sweetness forth.
From out the fields of God;
The old lost Eden newly blooms
From out the sunny sod.
My buried joy stirs with the earth,
And tries to sun its sweetness forth.
402
The trees move in their slumbering,
Dreaming of one that's near;
Put out their feelers for the Spring,
To wake, and find her here!
My spirit on the threshold stands,
And stretches out its waiting hands,
Dreaming of one that's near;
Put out their feelers for the Spring,
To wake, and find her here!
My spirit on the threshold stands,
And stretches out its waiting hands,
Then goeth from me in a stream
Of yearning; wave on wave
Slides thro' the stillness of a dream,
To little Marian's grave:
For all the miracle of Spring
My long-lost child will never bring.
Of yearning; wave on wave
Slides thro' the stillness of a dream,
To little Marian's grave:
For all the miracle of Spring
My long-lost child will never bring.
Where blooms the golden crocus-burst,
And Winter's tenderling,
There lies our little Snowdrop! first
Of Flowers in our love's spring!
How all the year's young beauties blow
About her there, I know, I know.
And Winter's tenderling,
There lies our little Snowdrop! first
Of Flowers in our love's spring!
How all the year's young beauties blow
About her there, I know, I know.
The Blackbird with his warble wet,
The Thrush with reedy thrill,
Open their hearts to Spring, and let
The influence have its will!
Tho' all around the Spring hath smiled,
She seems to have kissed where lies our child.
The Thrush with reedy thrill,
Open their hearts to Spring, and let
The influence have its will!
403
She seems to have kissed where lies our child.
In purple shadow and golden shine
Old Arthur's Seat is crown'd;
Like shapes of Silence crystalline
The great white clouds sail round!
The Dead at rest the long day thro'
Lie calm against the pictured blue.
Old Arthur's Seat is crown'd;
Like shapes of Silence crystalline
The great white clouds sail round!
The Dead at rest the long day thro'
Lie calm against the pictured blue.
O Marian, our Maid Marian,
So strange it seems to me!
That you, the household's darling one,
So soon should cease to be.
Ah, was it that our praying breath
Might kindle heavenward fires of faith?
So strange it seems to me!
That you, the household's darling one,
So soon should cease to be.
Ah, was it that our praying breath
Might kindle heavenward fires of faith?
So much forgiven for your sake
When bitter words were said,
And little arms about the neck
With blessings bowed the head!
So happy as we might have been,
Our hearts more close with you between.
When bitter words were said,
And little arms about the neck
With blessings bowed the head!
So happy as we might have been,
Our hearts more close with you between.
404
Dear early Dew-drop! such a gleam
Of sun from heaven you drew,
We little thought that smiling beam
Would drink our precious dew!
But back to heaven our dew was kissed,
We saw it pass in mournful mist.
Of sun from heaven you drew,
We little thought that smiling beam
Would drink our precious dew!
But back to heaven our dew was kissed,
We saw it pass in mournful mist.
We bore her beauty in our breast,
As heaven bears the Dawn.
We brooded over her dear nest,
Still close and closer drawn;
Hearts thrilled and listened, watched and throbbed
And strayed not,—yet the nest was robbed!
As heaven bears the Dawn.
We brooded over her dear nest,
Still close and closer drawn;
Hearts thrilled and listened, watched and throbbed
And strayed not,—yet the nest was robbed!
“Stay yet a little while, Beloved!”
In vain our prayerful breath:
Across heaven's lighted window moved
The shadow of black Death.
In vain our hands were stretcht to save;
There closed the gateways of the Grave!
In vain our prayerful breath:
Across heaven's lighted window moved
The shadow of black Death.
In vain our hands were stretcht to save;
There closed the gateways of the Grave!
Could my death-vision have darkened up
In her sweet face, my child:
I scarce should see the bitter cup,
I could have drank and smiled:
Blessing her with my last-wrung breath,
Dear Angel in my dream of death!
In her sweet face, my child:
I scarce should see the bitter cup,
I could have drank and smiled:
405
Dear Angel in my dream of death!
Her memory is like music we
Have heard some singer sing,
That thrills life thro', and echoingly
Our hearts for ever ring;
We try it o'er and o'er again,
But ne'er recall the wondrous strain.
Have heard some singer sing,
That thrills life thro', and echoingly
Our hearts for ever ring;
We try it o'er and o'er again,
But ne'er recall the wondrous strain.
My full heart like a river runs,
Lying awake o' nights;
I see her with the Shining Ones
Upon the shining heights.
And a wee Angel-face will peep
Down starlike thro' the veil of sleep.
Lying awake o' nights;
I see her with the Shining Ones
Upon the shining heights.
And a wee Angel-face will peep
Down starlike thro' the veil of sleep.
My yearnings try to get them wings
And float me up afar,
As in the dawn the sky-lark springs
To reach some distant Star
That all night long swam down to him
In brightness, but at morn grew dim.
And float me up afar,
As in the dawn the sky-lark springs
To reach some distant Star
That all night long swam down to him
In brightness, but at morn grew dim.
406
She is a spirit of light that leavens
The darkness where we wait;
And starlike opens in the heavens
A little golden gate!
O may we wake and find her near
When work and sleep are over here!
The darkness where we wait;
And starlike opens in the heavens
A little golden gate!
O may we wake and find her near
When work and sleep are over here!
No sweetness to this world of ours
Is without purpose given,
The fragrance that goes up from Flowers
May be their soul in heaven.
We saw Heaven in her face, may we
Her future face in Heaven see.
Is without purpose given,
The fragrance that goes up from Flowers
May be their soul in heaven.
We saw Heaven in her face, may we
Her future face in Heaven see.
In some far spring of brighter bloom,
More life and ampler breath,
My bud hath burst the folding gloom,
A-flower from dusty death!
We wonder will she be much grown?
And how will her new name be known?
More life and ampler breath,
My bud hath burst the folding gloom,
A-flower from dusty death!
We wonder will she be much grown?
And how will her new name be known?
I saw her ribboned robe this morn,
Mine own lost little child;
Wee shoes her tiny feet had worn,
And then my heart grew wild.
We only trust ourselves to peep
In on them when we want to weep.
Mine own lost little child;
Wee shoes her tiny feet had worn,
And then my heart grew wild.
407
In on them when we want to weep.
But hearts will break or eyes must weep,
And so we bend above
These treasures of old days that keep
The fragrance of young love.
Our harvest-field tho' reapt and bare
Hath yet a patient gleaner there.
And so we bend above
These treasures of old days that keep
The fragrance of young love.
Our harvest-field tho' reapt and bare
Hath yet a patient gleaner there.
I never think of her sweet eyes
In dusky death now dim,
But waters of my heart will rise,
And there they smile and swim,
Forget-me-nots so blue, so dear,
Swim in the waters of a tear.
In dusky death now dim,
But waters of my heart will rise,
And there they smile and swim,
Forget-me-nots so blue, so dear,
Swim in the waters of a tear.
How often in the days gone by
She lifted her dear head,
And stretcht wee arms for me to lie
Down in her little bed.
And cradled in my happy breast
Was carried softly into rest.
She lifted her dear head,
And stretcht wee arms for me to lie
Down in her little bed.
And cradled in my happy breast
Was carried softly into rest.
408
And now when life is sore oppressed
And runs with weary wave,
I long to lay me down and rest
In little Marian's grave;
To smile as peaceful as she smiled—
For I am now the nestling child.
And runs with weary wave,
I long to lay me down and rest
In little Marian's grave;
To smile as peaceful as she smiled—
For I am now the nestling child.
Immortal Love, a spirit of bliss
And brightness, moves above,
While here forever Sorrow is
The shadow cast by Love,
But love for her no sorrow will bring
And no more tearful leaves-taking.
And brightness, moves above,
While here forever Sorrow is
The shadow cast by Love,
But love for her no sorrow will bring
And no more tearful leaves-taking.
No passing troubles on their march
Will leave sad foot-prints now;
No trials strain the tender arch
Of that white baby brow.
No cares to cloud, no tears to come,
That rob the cheek of pearly bloom.
Will leave sad foot-prints now;
No trials strain the tender arch
Of that white baby brow.
No cares to cloud, no tears to come,
That rob the cheek of pearly bloom.
All sweetest shapes that Beauty wears
Are round about her drawn;
Auroral bloom, and vernal airs,
And blessings of the dawn;
All loveliness that ne'er grows less;
Time cannot touch her tenderness.
Are round about her drawn;
Auroral bloom, and vernal airs,
And blessings of the dawn;
409
Time cannot touch her tenderness.
One sparkle of immortal light
Our love for her shall shine
In the dew-drop that nestles white
At heart with gleam divine,
But vanishes from Death's cold clasp
When he the flower of life doth grasp.
Our love for her shall shine
In the dew-drop that nestles white
At heart with gleam divine,
But vanishes from Death's cold clasp
When he the flower of life doth grasp.
The patient calm that comes with years,
Hath made us cease to fret;
Only at times in sudden tears
Dumb hearts will quiver yet:
And each one turns the face and tries
To hide Who looks thro' parent eyes.
Hath made us cease to fret;
Only at times in sudden tears
Dumb hearts will quiver yet:
And each one turns the face and tries
To hide Who looks thro' parent eyes.
410
THE RELIEF.
(FROM “HAVELOCK'S MARCH.”)
There Lucknow lies before them — all its pageantry unrolled.
Against the smiling sapphire gleam her tops of lighted gold.
Each royal wall is fretted all with frostwork and with fire;
A glory of colour, jewel-rich, that makes a splen dour-pyre,
As wave on wave the wonder breaks; the pointed flames burn higher
On dome of Mosque and Minaret, on pinnacle and spire:
Fairy creations, seen mid-air, that in their pleasaunce wait,
Like wingëd creatures sitting just outside their heaven-gate.
The city in its beauty lies, with flowers about her feet:
Green fields and goodly gardens make the foul thing fair and sweet!
Against the smiling sapphire gleam her tops of lighted gold.
Each royal wall is fretted all with frostwork and with fire;
A glory of colour, jewel-rich, that makes a splen dour-pyre,
As wave on wave the wonder breaks; the pointed flames burn higher
On dome of Mosque and Minaret, on pinnacle and spire:
411
Like wingëd creatures sitting just outside their heaven-gate.
The city in its beauty lies, with flowers about her feet:
Green fields and goodly gardens make the foul thing fair and sweet!
The Bugle rings out for the march, and with its proudest thrill,
Goes to the heart of Havelock's men, working its lordly will;
Making their spirits thrill as leaves are thrill'd in some wild wind;
Hunger and heartache, weariness and wounds, all left behind.
Their sufferings all forgotten now, as in the ranks they form,
And every soul in stature rose to wrestle with the storm!
All silent. What was hid at heart could not be said in words.
With faces set for Lucknow, ground to sharpness, keen as swords.
A tightening twitch all over! a grim glistening in the eye;
“Forward!” and on their way they strode, to dare, and do, and die.
Goes to the heart of Havelock's men, working its lordly will;
Making their spirits thrill as leaves are thrill'd in some wild wind;
Hunger and heartache, weariness and wounds, all left behind.
Their sufferings all forgotten now, as in the ranks they form,
And every soul in stature rose to wrestle with the storm!
All silent. What was hid at heart could not be said in words.
With faces set for Lucknow, ground to sharpness, keen as swords.
412
“Forward!” and on their way they strode, to dare, and do, and die.
Hope whispers at the ear of some that they shall meet again
And clasp their long-lost darlings, after all the toil and pain.
A-many know that they will sleep to-night among the slain
And many a cheek will bloom no more for all the tearful rain.
And some have only vengeance, but to-day 'tis bitter-sweet!
And there goes Havelock, his the aim too lofty for defeat.
With steady tramp the Column treads, true as the firm heart's beat,
Strung for its headlong murderous march thro' that long fatal street.
All ready to win a soldier's grave, or do the daring deed,
But not a man that fears to die for England in her need.
The masked Artillery raked the road and ploughed them front and flank.
Some gallant fellow every stride was stricken from the rank.
But, as he staggered, in his place another sternly stepped,
And firing fast as they could load their onward way they kept.
Now, give them the good bayonet! with England's fiercest foes,
Strong arm, cold steel will do it, in the wildest, bloodiest close!
And now the bayonets abreast go sternly up the ridge,
And with another charge they take the guns and clear the bridge.
One good home-thrust! and surely as the dead in doom are sure
They send them where the British cheer can trouble them no more.
And clasp their long-lost darlings, after all the toil and pain.
A-many know that they will sleep to-night among the slain
And many a cheek will bloom no more for all the tearful rain.
And some have only vengeance, but to-day 'tis bitter-sweet!
And there goes Havelock, his the aim too lofty for defeat.
With steady tramp the Column treads, true as the firm heart's beat,
Strung for its headlong murderous march thro' that long fatal street.
All ready to win a soldier's grave, or do the daring deed,
But not a man that fears to die for England in her need.
413
Some gallant fellow every stride was stricken from the rank.
But, as he staggered, in his place another sternly stepped,
And firing fast as they could load their onward way they kept.
Now, give them the good bayonet! with England's fiercest foes,
Strong arm, cold steel will do it, in the wildest, bloodiest close!
And now the bayonets abreast go sternly up the ridge,
And with another charge they take the guns and clear the bridge.
One good home-thrust! and surely as the dead in doom are sure
They send them where the British cheer can trouble them no more.
The fire is biting bitterly; onward the battle rolls.
Grim Death is glaring at them, from ten thousand hiding-holes.
Death stretches up from earth to heaven, spreading his darkness round;
Death piles the heaps of helplessness face-downward to the ground:
Death flames from sudden ambuscades where all was still and dark;
Death swiftly speeds on whizzing wings the bullets to their mark;
Death from the doors and windows, all around and overhead,
Darts with his cloven, fiery tongues, incessant, quick and red.
Death everywhere: Death in all sounds, and, thro' its smoke of breath,
Victory beckons at the end of long, dark lanes of death.
Grim Death is glaring at them, from ten thousand hiding-holes.
414
Death piles the heaps of helplessness face-downward to the ground:
Death flames from sudden ambuscades where all was still and dark;
Death swiftly speeds on whizzing wings the bullets to their mark;
Death from the doors and windows, all around and overhead,
Darts with his cloven, fiery tongues, incessant, quick and red.
Death everywhere: Death in all sounds, and, thro' its smoke of breath,
Victory beckons at the end of long, dark lanes of death.
Another charge, another cheer, another battery won.
And in a whirlwind of fierce fire the fight goes roaring on!
Into the very heart of hell, with comrades falling fast,
Thro' all that tempest terrible, the glorious remnant passed.
No time to help a dear old friend, but where the wounded fell,
They knew it was all over and they lookt a last farewell.
And dying eyes slow-setting in a cold and stony stare,
Turned upward, see a map of murder scribbled on the air
With crossing flames, and others read their fiery, fearful fate,
In dark, swart faces waiting for them, whitening with their hate.
And in a whirlwind of fierce fire the fight goes roaring on!
Into the very heart of hell, with comrades falling fast,
Thro' all that tempest terrible, the glorious remnant passed.
415
They knew it was all over and they lookt a last farewell.
And dying eyes slow-setting in a cold and stony stare,
Turned upward, see a map of murder scribbled on the air
With crossing flames, and others read their fiery, fearful fate,
In dark, swart faces waiting for them, whitening with their hate.
O proudly men will march to death, when Have-lock leads them on;
Thro' all the storm he sat his horse as he were cut in stone.
But now his look grows dark, his eye gleams with uneasy flash;
“On, for the Residency, we must make a last brave dash;”
And on dasht Highlander and Sikh, thro' a sea of fire and steel;
On with the lion of their strength, our first in glory, Neill.
It seemed the face of heaven grew black, so close it held its breath
Thro' all the glorious agony of that long march of death.
The round shot tears, the bullets rain; dear God, outspread thy shield;
Put forth thy red right arm for them; Thy sword of sharpness wield!
Thro' all the storm he sat his horse as he were cut in stone.
But now his look grows dark, his eye gleams with uneasy flash;
“On, for the Residency, we must make a last brave dash;”
And on dasht Highlander and Sikh, thro' a sea of fire and steel;
On with the lion of their strength, our first in glory, Neill.
416
Thro' all the glorious agony of that long march of death.
The round shot tears, the bullets rain; dear God, outspread thy shield;
Put forth thy red right arm for them; Thy sword of sharpness wield!
One wave breaks forward on the shore, and one falls helpless back.
Again they club their wasted strength and fight like “Hell-fire Jack.”
And, ever as fainter grows the fire of that intrepid band,
Again they grasp the bayonet as 'twere Salvation's hand.
They leap the broad deep trenches; rush thro' archways streaming fire;
Every step some brave heart bursts, heaving deliverance nigher.
“I'm hit,” cries one—“You'll take me on your back, old comrade; I
Should like to see their dear white faces once before I die!
My body may save you from the shot.”
Again they club their wasted strength and fight like “Hell-fire Jack.”
And, ever as fainter grows the fire of that intrepid band,
Again they grasp the bayonet as 'twere Salvation's hand.
They leap the broad deep trenches; rush thro' archways streaming fire;
Every step some brave heart bursts, heaving deliverance nigher.
417
Should like to see their dear white faces once before I die!
My body may save you from the shot.”
His comrade bore him on;
But, ere they reacht the Bailie Guard, the hurrying soul was gone.
But, ere they reacht the Bailie Guard, the hurrying soul was gone.
And now the Gateway arched in sight; the last grim tussle came;
One moment makes immortal! dead or living, endless fame!
They heard the voice of fiery Neill that for the last time thrilled:
“Push on, my men, 'tis getting dark:” he sat where he was killed.
Another frantic surge of life, and plunging o'er the bar
Right into harbour hurling goes their whirling wave of war,
And breaks in mighty thunders of reverberating cheers,
Then dances on in frolic foam of kisses, blessings, tears.
Stabbed by mistake, one native cries, with the last breath he draws:
“Welcome, my friends; never you mind, it's all for the good cause.”
One moment makes immortal! dead or living, endless fame!
They heard the voice of fiery Neill that for the last time thrilled:
“Push on, my men, 'tis getting dark:” he sat where he was killed.
Another frantic surge of life, and plunging o'er the bar
Right into harbour hurling goes their whirling wave of war,
And breaks in mighty thunders of reverberating cheers,
Then dances on in frolic foam of kisses, blessings, tears.
418
“Welcome, my friends; never you mind, it's all for the good cause.”
How they had leaned and listened as the battle sounded nigher;
How they had strained their eyes to see them coming crown'd with fire;
Till in the flashing street below they heard them pant for breath,
And then the English faces smiled clear from the cloud of death,
And iron grasp met tender clasp: wan weeping women fold
Their dear Deliverers, down whose long brown beards the big tears rolled.
Another such a meeting will not be on this side heaven!
The little wine they have hoarded to the last drop shall be given
To those, who, in their mortal need, fought on thro' fearful odds;
Bled for them; reacht them; saved them; less like men than glorious gods.
How they had strained their eyes to see them coming crown'd with fire;
Till in the flashing street below they heard them pant for breath,
And then the English faces smiled clear from the cloud of death,
And iron grasp met tender clasp: wan weeping women fold
Their dear Deliverers, down whose long brown beards the big tears rolled.
Another such a meeting will not be on this side heaven!
The little wine they have hoarded to the last drop shall be given
To those, who, in their mortal need, fought on thro' fearful odds;
Bled for them; reacht them; saved them; less like men than glorious gods.
419
ENGLAND.
You lovers of our England, do but look
On this dear Country over whose fair face
God droopt a bridal-veil of tender mist,
That she might keep her beauty virginal,
And he might see her thro' a softer glory:
So very meek and reverent doth she stand
Within this shadow soft of Love Divine,
A sacred sweetness in her good, gray eyes;
A tenderer radiance kindling in her clouds;
A dewier lustre in her grass and flowers;
More loveable, and not as brighter lands
Whose bolder beauty stares up in Heaven's face.
On this dear Country over whose fair face
God droopt a bridal-veil of tender mist,
That she might keep her beauty virginal,
And he might see her thro' a softer glory:
So very meek and reverent doth she stand
Within this shadow soft of Love Divine,
A sacred sweetness in her good, gray eyes;
A tenderer radiance kindling in her clouds;
A dewier lustre in her grass and flowers;
More loveable, and not as brighter lands
Whose bolder beauty stares up in Heaven's face.
Look on her now, this Darling of the Sea,
Smiling upon her image in its calm,
As Beauty in her mirror looks and smiles.
And as a happy Lover clasps his Bride,
The fond Sea folds her round, and his brimmed life
Runs rippling to her inmost heart of hearts,
Until it swims a-flood with happiness;
While all the waters of her love leap back
To him exultant from a thousand hills.
From his salt virtue comes her northern sweetness.
With his bluff breezes how he doth embrace her!
How his rough kisses set her rose a-bloom!
Once in his rousëd wrath he lifted up
A mighty Armada in his arms, and dasht
It into sea-drift at his Mistress' feet.
And still he threatens with the voice of storms
The plots of all Invaders: still he keeps
Eternal watch around.
Smiling upon her image in its calm,
420
And as a happy Lover clasps his Bride,
The fond Sea folds her round, and his brimmed life
Runs rippling to her inmost heart of hearts,
Until it swims a-flood with happiness;
While all the waters of her love leap back
To him exultant from a thousand hills.
From his salt virtue comes her northern sweetness.
With his bluff breezes how he doth embrace her!
How his rough kisses set her rose a-bloom!
Once in his rousëd wrath he lifted up
A mighty Armada in his arms, and dasht
It into sea-drift at his Mistress' feet.
And still he threatens with the voice of storms
The plots of all Invaders: still he keeps
Eternal watch around.
How proud in peace,
The wild white horses rear and foam along
And bring to her the harvests of a world!
How grand in war they bear her battle line
Like Strength half-smiling, perfect Power crowned
With careless grace, which seemeth to all eyes
The plume of Triumph nodding as it goes:
For visible victory sits on England's brow,
And shines upon her sails.
The wild white horses rear and foam along
And bring to her the harvests of a world!
How grand in war they bear her battle line
Like Strength half-smiling, perfect Power crowned
With careless grace, which seemeth to all eyes
The plume of Triumph nodding as it goes:
421
And shines upon her sails.
See where she sits
Holding at heart her noble dead, and nursing
Her living Children on the old brave virtue!
Wearing the rainy radiance of the morning,
A silver sweetness swimming thro' her tears;
Feeling the glory rippling down from heaven
With smiles from all her wild flowers, her green leaves,
And nooks where old times live their shepherd ways.
Holding at heart her noble dead, and nursing
Her living Children on the old brave virtue!
Wearing the rainy radiance of the morning,
A silver sweetness swimming thro' her tears;
Feeling the glory rippling down from heaven
With smiles from all her wild flowers, her green leaves,
And nooks where old times live their shepherd ways.
We cannot count her heroes who lay down
In quiet graveyards when their work was done;
But mound on mound they rise all over the land
To bar a Tyrant's path, and make his feet
To stumble like the blind man among tombs.
Her brave dead make our earth heroic dust:
Their spirit glitters in our England's face
And makes her shine, a Star in blackest night,
Calm at her heart, and glory round her head.
We think of all who fought, and who are now
Immortals in the heaven of her love;
The Martyrs who have made of burning wrongs
Their fiery chariot, and gone up to God;
The saintly Sorrows that now walk in white;
Till faces bloom like Battle Banners flusht
All over with most glorious memories.
We are a chosen People; Freedom wears
Our English Rose for her peculiar crest,
Whoso dares touch it, bleeds upon the thorn.
It may be that the time will come again
For one more desperate struggle to the death.
The Devil's eye upon our England looks
With snaky sparkle still. It may be they
Will rouse the tamed Berserkir rage, and make
The vein of wrath throb livid on her brow,
And wake the old Norse War-dog in her blood,
Until the long-breathed swimmer strips and springs
Afloat; strikes out and shows her battle-teeth;
The clash of conflict lightning thro' her veins!
In quiet graveyards when their work was done;
But mound on mound they rise all over the land
To bar a Tyrant's path, and make his feet
To stumble like the blind man among tombs.
Her brave dead make our earth heroic dust:
Their spirit glitters in our England's face
And makes her shine, a Star in blackest night,
Calm at her heart, and glory round her head.
We think of all who fought, and who are now
Immortals in the heaven of her love;
The Martyrs who have made of burning wrongs
422
The saintly Sorrows that now walk in white;
Till faces bloom like Battle Banners flusht
All over with most glorious memories.
We are a chosen People; Freedom wears
Our English Rose for her peculiar crest,
Whoso dares touch it, bleeds upon the thorn.
It may be that the time will come again
For one more desperate struggle to the death.
The Devil's eye upon our England looks
With snaky sparkle still. It may be they
Will rouse the tamed Berserkir rage, and make
The vein of wrath throb livid on her brow,
And wake the old Norse War-dog in her blood,
Until the long-breathed swimmer strips and springs
Afloat; strikes out and shows her battle-teeth;
The clash of conflict lightning thro' her veins!
Thrice hath our England swept the seas, an cleared
Her ocean path, the highways of the world,
And shall again if Robbers lie in wait.
Steadfast she stood when towering nations poured
In one wild wave their culminating power!
Thro' all that harvest-day of bloody death,
They charged in vain, and dasht upon the edge
Of her good sword, and fell, at Waterloo!
She kept the shamble slopes of Inkermann!
Thro' blood and fire and gloom of Indian War
Swam its Red Sea, and rode out the mad storm!
So shall we hold our own dear land with all
The old unvanquisht soul, and live to see
Their changing Empires shift like sand around
The Island Rock, the footstool of the Lord,
Where Freedom also lays her head, and rest
In calm or strife the best hopes of a world.
Her ocean path, the highways of the world,
And shall again if Robbers lie in wait.
Steadfast she stood when towering nations poured
In one wild wave their culminating power!
423
They charged in vain, and dasht upon the edge
Of her good sword, and fell, at Waterloo!
She kept the shamble slopes of Inkermann!
Thro' blood and fire and gloom of Indian War
Swam its Red Sea, and rode out the mad storm!
So shall we hold our own dear land with all
The old unvanquisht soul, and live to see
Their changing Empires shift like sand around
The Island Rock, the footstool of the Lord,
Where Freedom also lays her head, and rest
In calm or strife the best hopes of a world.
Great starry thoughts grow luminous in the dark!
The Bird of Hope goes singing overhead!
We cannot fear for England; we can die
To do her bidding, but we cannot fear;
We who have heard her thunder-roll of deeds
Reverberating thro' the centuries;
By battle fire-light had the stories told;
We who have seen how proudly she prepares
For sacrifice, how radiantly her face
Flasht when the Bugle blew its bloody sounds,
And bloody weather fluttered the old Flag:
We who have seen her with the red heaps round!
We who have known the mightiest powers dasht back
Broken from her impregnable sea-walls;
We who have learned how in the darkest hour
The greatest light breaks out, and in the time
Of trial she reveals her noblest strength;
We cannot fear for England; cannot fear,
We who have felt her big heart beat in ours.
The Bird of Hope goes singing overhead!
We cannot fear for England; we can die
To do her bidding, but we cannot fear;
We who have heard her thunder-roll of deeds
Reverberating thro' the centuries;
By battle fire-light had the stories told;
We who have seen how proudly she prepares
For sacrifice, how radiantly her face
424
And bloody weather fluttered the old Flag:
We who have seen her with the red heaps round!
We who have known the mightiest powers dasht back
Broken from her impregnable sea-walls;
We who have learned how in the darkest hour
The greatest light breaks out, and in the time
Of trial she reveals her noblest strength;
We cannot fear for England; cannot fear,
We who have felt her big heart beat in ours.
There's sap in the old Oak! She lives to sow
The future forests with her acorns still.
The future forests with her acorns still.
Hail to thee, Mother of Nations! mighty yet
To strive and suffer, and give overthrow!
For all the powers of nature fight for thee.
Spirits that sleep in glory shall awake,
Come down and drive thy Car of victory
Over thine enemies' necks.
To strive and suffer, and give overthrow!
For all the powers of nature fight for thee.
Spirits that sleep in glory shall awake,
Come down and drive thy Car of victory
Over thine enemies' necks.
425
Long will they wait
Who privily lurk to stab thee when the night
Shall cover all in darkness.
Who privily lurk to stab thee when the night
Shall cover all in darkness.
Dear old Land,
Thy shining glories are no Sunset gleams,
But clouds that kindle round some great new Dawn.
Thy shining glories are no Sunset gleams,
But clouds that kindle round some great new Dawn.
THE END.
| A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems | |