I.LOVE AND DEATH.
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(On the picture by G. F. Watts, R.A.)
LOVE, one while seen with wings of many dyes,
An infant mischief, but a God withal,—
Still changeth semblance with the changing call
Of human need; how have we known his eyes
Dark with the dire and passionate surprise
Of youthful sorrow, as the phantom tall,
Shrouded in Death's impenetrable pall,
Forced back his portal, ruthless of his cries.
Cold Death, that holdeth Love in such despite,
Trampling his roses, leaving him forlorn,—
The Lord of Love well knoweth to requite!
And you, Love's tyrant, have been made his scorn,
Since in the dunnest shadow of your night
First unto Love immortal Hope was born.
II.LOVE AND LIFE.
[_]
(On the picture by G. F. Watts, R.A.)
HOW beautiful upon the mountains are
The feet of Love, beneath whose tread there grows
The verdure that is herald of the rose;
And Life, in lead of Love, how art thou fair!
Thy soul, if tremulous, still brave to dare
The upward path, unwitting where it goes,
And all in holy trust of Love, who knows,
To climb at ease from doubt, at rest from care.
Dear Love, that leadeth Life toward the springs
Of Light, what darkness may o'erwhelm her way;
How dense the mist upon the mountain clings;
Though she may see thee not, be thou her stay!
Lo the abyss! take heed, she hath no wings,
But hold her fast,—her feet will still obey.
