On a hill there grows a flower,
    Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,
    Where the heavenly Muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,
    Fringèd all about with gold,
Where doth sit the fairest fair
    That did ever eye behold.

It is Phyllis, fair and bright,
    She that is the shepherds' joy,
She that Venus did despite,
    And did blind her little boy.

This is she, the wise, the rich,
    That the world desires to see:
This is ipsa quæ, the which
    There is none but only she.

Who would not this face admire?
    Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
    Though he thought to see no more?

O, fair eyes, yet let me see,
    One good look, a...

Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear
To outward view, of blemish or of spot;
Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot,
Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear
Of Sun or Moon or Starre throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not
Against heavns hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear vp and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overply'd
In libertyes defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content though blind, had I no better guide.

The sparrows wake beneath the convent eaves;
I think I have not slept the whole night through.
But I am old; the aged scarcely know
The times they wake and sleep, for life burns down;
They breathe the calm of death before they die.
The long night ends, the day comes creeping in,
Showing the sorrows that the darkness hid,
The bended head of Christ, the blood, the thorns,
The wall's gray stains of damp, the pallet bed
Where little Sister Marta dreams of saints,
Waking with arms outstretched imploringly
That seek to stay a vision's vanishing.
I never had a vision, yet for me
Our Lady smiled while all the convent slept
One winter midnight hushed around with snow,
I thought she might be kinder than the rest,
And so I came to kneel before her feet,
Sick with lo...

'Tis strange 'at fowk will be sich fooils
To mak life net worth livin',
Fermentin' rows, creatin' mooils,
Detractin' an' deceivin'.
To fratch an' worry day an' neet,
Is sewerly wilful blindness,
When weel we know ther's nowt as sweet,
As a few words spoke i' kindness.

Ther is noa heart withaat its grief,
The gayest have some sadness;
But oft a kind word brings relief,
An' sheds a ray ov gladness.
We ought to think of others moor,
Nor ov ther pains be mindless;
We may bring joy to monny a door
Wi' a few words spoke i' kindness.

A peevish spaik, a bitin' jest,
'At may be thowtless spokken,
May be like keen edged dagger prest
Throo some heart nearly brokken.
Then let love be awr rule o' life,
This world's cares we shall find l...

    Just to be good -
            This is enough - enough!
    O we who find sin's billows wild and rough,
    Do we not feel how more than any gold
    Would be the blameless life we led of old
    While yet our lips knew but a mother's kiss?
            Ah! though we miss
            All else but this,
    To be good is enough!

    It is enough -
            Enough - just to be good!
    To lift our hearts where they are understood;
    To let the thirst for worldly power and place
    Go unappeased; to smile back in God's face
    With the glad lips our mothers used to kiss.
            Ah! though we miss
            All else but this,
    To be good is enough!

When I look forth at dawning, pool,
Field, flock, and lonely tree,
All seem to gaze at me
Like chastened children sitting silent in a school;

Their faces dulled, constrained, and worn,
As though the master's ways
Through the long teaching days
Their first terrestrial zest had chilled and overborne.

And on them stirs, in lippings mere
(As if once clear in call,
But now scarce breathed at all) -
"We wonder, ever wonder, why we find us here!

"Has some Vast Imbecility,
Mighty to build and blend,
But impotent to tend,
Framed us in jest, and left us now to hazardry?

"Or come we of an Automaton
Unconscious of our pains? . . .
Or are we live remains
Of Godhead dying downwards, brain and eye now gone?

"Or is it that som...

'And he, casting away his garment, rose and came to Jesus.'


And he cast it down, down, on the green grass,
Over the young crocuses, where the dew was -
He cast the garment of his flesh that was full of death,
And like a sword his spirit showed out of the cold sheath.

He went a pace or two, he went to meet his Lord,
And, as I said, his spirit looked like a clean sword,
And seeing him the naked trees began shivering,
And all the birds cried out aloud as it were late spring.

And the Lord came on, He came down, and saw
That a soul was waiting there for Him, one without flaw,
And they embraced in the churchyard where the robins play,
And the daffodils hang down their heads, as they burn away.

The Lord held his head fast, and you could see
That h...

Listen, Beloved, the Casurinas quiver,
Each tassel prays the wind to set it free,
Hark to the frantic sobbing of the river,
Wild to attain extinction in the sea.
All Nature blindly struggles to dissolve
In other forms and forces, thus to solve
The painful riddle of identity.
Ah, that my soul might lose itself in thee!

Yet, my Beloved One, wherefore seek I union,
Since there is no such thing in all the world, -
Are not our spirits linked in close communion, -
And on my lips thy clinging lips are curled?
Thy tender arms are round my shoulders thrown,
I hear thy heart more loudly than my own,
And yet, to my despair, I know thee far,
As in the stellar darkness, star from star.

Even in times when love with bounteous measure
A simultaneous joy on us...

O mighty God! our fathers told
    The wondrous works thou didst of yore;
Thy glories in the days of old,
    Wrought on proud Egypt's hostile shore.
Thy wrath swept through that guilty land;
    Before thy face the heathen fled;
His people, with an outstretched hand,
    The Lord of Hosts in triumph led!

It was not counsel, spear, nor sword,
    A heritage for Israel won;
It was Jehovah's awful word
    That led our conquering armies on.
The heathen host--their warriors brave--
    Were scattered when the Lord arose;
At his terrific glance, a grave
    Was found by Jacob's haughty foes!

God of our strength! Almighty Power!
    Our sure defence, our sword and shield,
Still guide our hosts in danger's hour,
    Still lead our armies t...

“Where shall we dwell?” say you.
Wandering winds reply:
“In a temple with roof of blue
Under the splendid sky.”

Never a nobler home
We’ll find though an age we try
Than is arched by the azure dome
Of the all-enfolding sky.

Here we are wed, and here
We live under God’s own eye.
“Where shall we dwell,” my dear?
Under the splendid sky.

HE.

Canst thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden,

'Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder,

Where I'd fain one moment cease to wander,
Food and drink to one so heavy laden?

SHE.

Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary,

Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes,

None but Nature's plain and homely dishes,
Near the spring may soothe thy wanderings dreary.

HE.

Dreams of old acquaintance now pass through me,

Ne'er-forgotten queen of hours of blisses.

Likenesses I've often found, but this is
One that quite a marvel seemeth to me!

SHE.

Travellers often wonder beyond measure,

But their wonder soon see cause to smother;

Fair and dark are often like each other...

    How light and pleasant is the way
Across this quiet valley, whose soft mead
Springs lightly as the air that angels tread,
    Beneath our footsteps weariless all day!
This crystal river flowing by our side,
One stream of sunshine, still has seem'd a guide
    From Heaven in pure angelical array.

    These purple mountains now are nigh,
That all the valley through have fill'd our eyes
With day-dreams of the distant Paradise,
    Their sun-surrounded summits can descry--
We mount them now upon Hope's bounding wing,
That makes each short swift footstep long to spring
    Suddenly upward to the shadeless sky.

    The air methinks is lighter here--
And the breast heaves with full untrammell'd ease,
Drinking the life-draught of the fragrant breeze,

Blow, Father Triton, blow your wreathéd horn
    Cheerly, as is your wont, and let the blast
Circle our island on the breezes borne;
    Blow, while the shining hours go swiftly past.
Rise, Proteus, from the cool depths rise, and be
A friend to them that breast your ancient sea.

I shall be there to greet you, for I tire
    Of the dull meadows and the crawling stream.
Now with a heart uplifted and a-fire
    I come to greet you and to catch the gleam
Of jocund Nereids tossing in the air
The sportive tresses of their amber hair.

High on a swelling upland I shall stand
    Stung by the buffets of the wind-borne spray;
Or join the troops that sport upon the sand,
    With shouts and laughter wearing out the day;
Or pace apart and listen to the roar

My friend, thou sorrowest for thy golden prime,
For thy fair youthful years too swift of flight;
Thou musest, with wet eyes, upon the time
Of cheerful hopes that filled the world with light,
Years when thy heart was bold, thy hand was strong,
And quick the thought that moved thy tongue to speak,
And willing faith was thine, and scorn of wrong
Summoned the sudden crimson to thy cheek.

Thou lookest forward on the coming days,
Shuddering to feel their shadow o'er thee creep;
A path, thick-set with changes and decays,
Slopes downward to the place of common sleep;
And they who walked with thee in life's first stage,
Leave one by one thy side, and, waiting near,
Thou seest the sad companions of thy age,
Dull love of rest, and weariness and fear.

Yet grie...

(=TO-MORROW)

['Never do To-day what can be postponed till To-morrow, save at the dictates of your personal convenience.' - Maxims of the Wicked, No. 3.]


Sweet Word, by whose unwearying assistance
We of the Ruling Race, when sorely tried,
Can keep intrusive persons at a distance,
And let unseasonable matters slide;
Thou at whose blast the powers of irritation
Yield to a soft and gentlemanly lull
Of solid peace and flat Procrastination,
These to thy praise and honour, good old Kal!

For we are greatly plagued by sacrilegious
Monsters in human form, who care for naught
Save with incessant papers to besiege us,
E'en to the solemn hour of silent thought;
They draw no line; the frightful joy of giving
Pain is their guerdon; but for Thee alon...

Yon late but gleaming Moon, in hoary light
    Shines out unveil'd, and on the cloud's dark fleece
    Rests; - but her strengthen'd beams appear to increase
    The wild disorder of this troubled Night.
Redoubling Echos seem yet more to excite
    The roaring Winds and Waters! - Ah! why cease
    Resolves, that promis'd everlasting peace,
    And drew my steps to this incumbent height?
I wish! - I shudder! - stretch my longing arms
    O'er the steep cliff! - My swelling spirits brave
    The leap, that quiets all these dire alarms,
And floats me tossing on the stormy wave!
    But Oh! what roots my feet? - what spells, what charms
    The daring purpose of my Soul enslave?

        (To myself.)


        NOSCE TEIPSUM: look and spy,
        Have you a friend so fond as I?
        Have you a fault, to mankind known,
        Not hidden unto eyes your own?
        When airy castles you importune,
        Down falling, by the breath of Fortune,
        Did I e'er doubt you should inherit,
        If Fortune's wheel devolved on merit?
        It was not so; for Fortune's frown
        Still perseveres to hold you down.
        Then let us seek the cause, and view
        What others say and others do.
        Have we, like those in place, resigned
        Our independency of mind?
        Have we had scruples - and therefore
        Practising morals, are we poor?
        If such be our forlorn position,
   ...

Dread Mother of Forgetfulness
Who, when Thy reign begins,
Wipest away the Soul's distress,
And memory of her sins.

The trusty Worm that dieth not
The steadfast Fire also,
By Thy contrivance are forgot
In a completer woe.

Thine are the lidless eyes of night
That stare upon our tears,
Through certain hours which in our sight
Exceed a thousand years:

Thine is the thickness of the Dark
That presses in our pain,
As Thine the Dawn that bids us mark
Life's grinning face again.

Thine is the weariness outworn
No promise shall relieve,
That says at eve, "Would God 'twere morn"
At morn, "Would God 'twere eve!"

And when Thy tender mercies cease
And life unvexed is due,
Instant upon the false release
The Worm...