So! the fierce acid licks the silver clean,
Unwonted plain the superscription's seen
Round the cleared head; the metal, virgin-bright,
Shines a mild Moon to the Sun candle-light.
And in these floating stains, this evil murk,
All your change-crowded, moment-histories lurk,
Voluble Silverling! Dost yield me now
Your chance-illumined record, and allow
Prying of idle eyes?... you came a boon
To men as weary as any the weak moon
Shines on but cheers not; you were life in death;
Almost a God to give the prize of breath,
Almost a God to give the prize of joy,
Almost a God--but God! the veriest toy
Child's fingers break, from death to buy back life,
Turn the keen trouble of grief's eager knife,
Or sense-confounded hearts heal of the ancient strife.
O Coin that me...

However certain of the way thou art,
Take not the self-appointed leader's part.
Follow no man, and by no man be led,
And no man lead.    AWAKE, and go ahead.
Thy path, though leading straight unto the goal
Might prove confusing to another soul.
The goal is central; but from east, and west,
And north, and south, we set out on the quest;
From lofty mountains, and from valleys low:-
How could all find one common way to go?

Lord Buddha to the wilderness was brought.
Lord Jesus to the Cross.    And yet, think not
By solitude, or cross, thou canst achieve,
Lest in thine own true Self thou dost believe.
Know thou art One, with life's Almighty Source,
Then are thy feet set on the certain Course.

Nor does it matter if thou feast, or fast,
Or what thy c...

        "Audemus dicere ‘Pater Noster.’"-CANON OF THE MASS.

                There is a bolder way,
    There is a wilder enterprise than this
    All-human iteration day by day.
    Courage, mankind!    Restore Him what is His.

                Out of His mouth were given
    These phrases.    O replace them whence they came.
    He, only, knows our inconceivable "Heaven,"
    Our hidden "Father," and the unspoken "Name";

                Our "trespasses," our "bread,"
    The "will" inexorable yet implored;
    The miracle-words that are and are not said,
    Charged with the unknown purpose of their Lord.

                "Forgive," "give," "lead us not"-
    Speak them by Him, O man the unaware,
    Speak by that dear tongue, though t...

God knows I strive against low lust and vice,
Wound in the net of their voluptuous hair;
God knows that all their kisses are as ice
    To me who do not care.

God knows, against the front of Fate I set
Eyes still and stern, and lips as bitter prest;
Raised clenched and ineffectual palms to let
    Her rock-like pressing breast!

God knows what motive such large zeal inspires,
God knows the star for which I climb and crave,
God knows, and only God, the eating fires
    That in my bosom rave.

I will not fall! I will not; thou dost lie!
Deep Hell! that seethest in thy simmering pit;
Thy thousand throned horrors shall not vie,
    Or ever compass it!

But as thou sinkest from my soul away,
So shall I rise, rolled in the morning's rose,

Pure as an angel's dream shone Paradise.
Blue mountains hemmed it round; and airy sighs
Of rippling waters haunted it. Dim glades,
And wayward paths o'erflecked with shimmering shades,
And tangled dells, and wilding pleasances,
Hung moist with odors strange from scented trees.
Sweet sounds o'erbrimmed the place; and rare perfumes,
Faint as far sunshine, fell 'mong verdant glooms.
In that fair land, all hues, all leafage green
Wrapt flawless days in endless summer-sheen.
Bright eyes, the violet waking, lifted up
Where bent the lily her deep, fragrant cup;
And folded buds, 'gainst many a leafy spray--
The wild-woods' voiceless nuns--knelt down to pray.
There roses, deep in greenest mosses swathed,
Kept happy tryst with tropic blooms, sun-bathed.
No sounds of sad...

A land of lights and shadows intervolved,
A land of blazing sun and blackest night,
A fortress armed, and guarded jealously,
With every portal barred against the Light.

A land in thrall to ancient mystic faiths,
A land of iron creeds and gruesome deeds,
A land of superstitions vast and grim,
And all the noisome growths that Darkness breeds.

Like sunny waves upon an iron-bound coast,
The Light beats up against the close-barred doors,
And seeks vain entrance, yet beats on and on,
In hopeful faith which all defeat ignores.

But--time shall come, when, like a swelling tide,
The Word shall leap the barriers, and The Light
Shall sweep the land; and Faith and Love and Hope
Shall win for Christ this stronghold of the night.

To-day the woods are trembling through and through
With shimmering forms, that flash before my view,
Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A subtlety of mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
The beech dreams balm, as a dreamer hums a song;
Through that vague wafture, expirations strong
Throb from young hickories breathing deep and long
With stress and urgence bold of prisoned spring
And ecstasy of burgeoning.
Now, since the dew-plashed road of morn is dry,
Forth venture odors of more quality
And heavenlier giving. Like Jove's locks awry,
Long musca...

Heal us, Emmanuel, here we are,
Waiting to feel thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to thee repair,
And, Saviour, we are such.


Our faith is feeble, we confess,
We faintly trust thy word;
But wilt thou pity us the less?
Be that far from thee, Lord!


Remember him who once applied,
With trembling, for relief;
“Lord, I believe,” with tears he cried,[1]
”Oh, help my unbelief!”


She too, who touch’d thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,
Was answer’d, “Daughter, go in peace,[2]
Thy faith hath made thee whole.”


Conceal’d amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn’d thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.


Like her, with hopes and ...

That you might happier be than all the rest,
Than I who have been happy loving you,
Of all the innocent even the happiest--
This I beseeched for you.

Until I thought of those unending skies--
Of stagnant cloud, or fleckless dull blue air,
Of days and nights delightless, no surprise,
No threat, no sting, no fear;

And of the stirless waters of the mind,
Waveless, unfurrowed, of no living hue,
With dead eaves dropping slowly in no wind,
And nothing flowering new.

And then no more I wished you happiness,
But that whatever fell of joy or woe
I would not dare, O Sweet, to wish it less,
Or wish you less than you.

Rapine has yet took nought from me;
But if it please my God I be
Brought at the last to th' utmost bit,
God make me thankful still for it.
I have been grateful for my store:
Let me say grace when there's no more.

I
Enchanter of Erin, whose magic has bound us,
Thy wand for one moment we fondly would claim,
Entranced while it summons the phantoms around us
That blush into life at the sound of thy name.

The tell-tales of memory wake from their slumbers, -
I hear the old song with its tender refrain, -
What passion lies hid in those honey-voiced numbers
What perfume of youth in each exquisite strain!

The home of my childhood comes back as a vision, -
Hark! Hark! A soft chord from its song-haunted room, -
'T is a morning of May, when the air is Elysian, -
The syringa in bud and the lilac in bloom, -

We are clustered around the "Clementi" piano, -
There were six of us then, - there are two of us now, -
She is singing - the girl with the silver soprano -
How...

O, GENIUS! does thy Sun-resembling beam
    To the internal eyes of Man display
    In clearer prospect, the momentous way
    That leads to peace? Do they not rather seem
Dazzled by lustres in continual stream,
    Till night they find in such excessive day?
    Art thou not prone, with too intense a ray,
    To gild the hope improbable, the dream
Of fancied good? - or bid the sigh upbraid
    Imaginary evils, and involve
    All real sorrow in a darker shade?
To fond credulity, to rash resolve
    Dost thou not prompt, till reason's sacred aid
    And fair discretion in thy fires dissolve?

Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stained with ill,
Behold! thou art a woman still!
And, by that sacred name and dear,
I bid thy better self appear.
Still, through thy foul disguise, I see
The rudimental purity,
That, spite of change and loss, makes good
Thy birthright-claim of womanhood;
An inward loathing, deep, intense;
A shame that is half innocence.
Cast off the grave-clothes of thy sin!
Rise from the dust thou liest in,
As Mary rose at Jesus' word,
Redeemed and white before the Lord!
Reclairn thy lost soul! In His name,
Rise up, and break thy bonds of shame.
Art weak? He 's strong. Art fearful? Hear
The world's O'ercomer: "Be of cheer!"
What lip shall judge when He approves?
Who dare to scorn the child He loves

'Jessie, Jessie Cameron,
    Hear me but this once,' quoth he.
'Good luck go with you, neighbor's son,
    But I'm no mate for you,' quoth she.
Day was verging toward the night
    There beside the moaning sea,
Dimness overtook the light
    There where the breakers be.
'O Jessie, Jessie Cameron,
    I have loved you long and true.' -
'Good luck go with you, neighbor's son,
    But I'm no mate for you.'

She was a careless, fearless girl,
    And made her answer plain,
Outspoken she to earl or churl,
    Kindhearted in the main,
But somewhat heedless with her tongue,
    And apt at causing pain;
A mirthful maiden she and young,
    Most fair for bliss or bane.
'Oh, long ago I told you so,
    I tell you so to-day:
Go you your...

To tell the Saviour all my wants,
How pleasing is the task!
Nor less to praise him when he grants
Beyond what I can ask.


My labouring spirit vainly seeks
To tell but half the joy;
With how much tenderness he speaks,
And helps me to reply.


Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,
Such secrets to declare;
Like precious wines, their tastes they lose,
Exposed to open air.


But this with boldness I proclaim,
Nor care if thousands hear,
Sweet is the ointment of his name,
Not life is half so dear.


And can you frown, my former friends,
Who knew what once I was;
And blame the song that thus commends
The Man who bore the cross?


Trust me, I draw the likeness true,
And not as fancy paints;

Se la mia vita dall' aspro tormento.

HE HOPES THAT TIME WILL RENDER HER MORE MERCIFUL.


    If o'er each bitter pang, each hidden throe
Sadly triumphant I my years drag on,
Till even the radiance of those eyes is gone,
Lady, which star-like now illume thy brow;
And silver'd are those locks of golden glow,
And wreaths and robes of green aside are thrown,
And from thy cheek those hues of beauty flown,
Which check'd so long the utterance of my woe,
Haply my bolder tongue may then reveal
The bosom'd annals of my heart's fierce fire,
The martyr-throbs that now in night I veil:
And should the chill Time frown on young Desire.
Still, still some late remorse that breast may feel,
And heave a tardy sigh--ere love with life expire.

WRANGHAM...

O happy day, with seven-fold blessings set
Amid thy hallowed hours, the memories dear
Of childhood’s holidays, and household cheer,
When friends and kin in loving circle met,
And youth’s glad gatherings, where the sands were wet
By waves that hurt not, whilst the great cliffs near,
With storms erewhile acquaint, gave echo clear
Of voices gay and laughter gayer yet.
And graver thoughts and holier arise
Of how, ’twixt that first eve and dawn of thine,
The Star ascended which hath lit our skies
More than the sun himself; and ’mid the kine
The Child was born whom shepherds, and the wise;
Who came from far, and angels, called Divine.

I

A subtle chain of countless rings
The next unto the farthest brings;
The eye reads omens where it goes,
And speaks all languages the rose;
And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form.

II

The rounded world is fair to see,
Nine times folded in mystery:
Though baffled seers cannot impart
The secret of its laboring heart,
Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast,
And all is clear from east to west.
Spirit that lurks each form within
Beckons to spirit of its kin;
Self-kindled every atom glows
And hints the future which it owes.