Love brought me to a silent grove
And show'd me there a tree,
Where some had hang'd themselves for love,
And gave a twist to me.

The halter was of silk and gold,
That he reach'd forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
By dainty things undo me.

He bade me then that necklace use;
And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
His death for love that taketh.

'Twas but a dream; but had I been
There really alone,
My desp'rate fears in love had seen
Mine execution.

Love in fantastic triumph sat,
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,
For whom fresh pains he did create,
And strange tyrannic power he shew'd;
From thy bright eyes he took his fire,
Which round about in sport he hurl'd;
But 'twas from mine he took desire
Enough to undo the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
And every killing dart from thee;
Thus thou and I the God have arm'd,
And set him up a Deity;
But my poor heart alone is harm'd,
Whilst thine the victor is, and free.

        The little white bride is left alone
        With him, her lord; the guests have gone;
                The festal hall is dim.
        No jesting now, nor answering mirth.
        The hush of sleep falls on the earth
                And leaves her here with him.

        Why should there be, O little white bride,
        When the world has left you by his side,
                A tear to brim your eyes?
        Some old love-face that comes again,
        Some old love-moment sweet with pain
                Of passionate memories?

        Does your heart yearn back with last regret
        For the maiden meads of mignonette
                And the fairy-haunted wood,
        That you had not withheld from love,
        A little while, the fre...

So humble things Thou hast borne for us, O God,
Left'st Thou a path of lowliness untrod?
Yes, one, till now; another Olive-Garden.
For we endure the tender pain of pardon,--
One with another we forbear.    Give heed,
Look at the mournful world Thou hast decreed.
The time has come.    At last we hapless men
Know all our haplessness all through.    Come, then,
Endure undreamed humility: Lord of Heaven,
Come to our ignorant hearts and be forgiven.

Remember the poor, in the dark chilly day,
When November's loud winds are fierce blowing;
Remember the poor, at thy plentiful board,
When the fire on thy bright hearth is glowing.

Remember the poor in yon damp dismal shed,
Without food, fire, or clothing to warm them;
And not like the Priest or the Levite pass by,
But Samaritan like stop and cheer them.

Remember the slave, the poor down trodden slave,
And do all in thy power to relieve him;
And when from oppression he strives to be free,
Do thou open thy gate to receive him.

For what saith the Lord is thy duty to such,
"To his master thou shalt not return him,"[3]
But give him a home near thy own if he likes,
And be sure not to vex or oppress him.

When parents or children or brethren yo...

I.

    O saw ye bonnie Lesley
        As she ga'ed o'er the border?
    She's gane, like Alexander,
        To spread her conquests farther.

II.

    To see her is to love her,
        And love but her for ever;
    For Nature made her what she is,
        And never made anither!

III.

    Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
        Thy subjects we, before thee:
    Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
        The hearts o' men adore thee.

IV.

    The deil he could na scaith thee,
        Or aught that wad belang thee;
    He'd look into thy bonnie face,
        And say, "I canna wrang thee."

V.

    The powers aboon will tent thee;
        Misfortune sha' na steer thee:
    Thou'rt like...

We thank you for a noble work well done.
There is a kindness - ('tis the truer one;
    The better part the simpler heart doth know),
The care to give the day a brighter sun

To these, the nameless crowd that drags on slow
The common toil, the common weary woe
    The world cares nought for. But your work secures
Thro' union strength and self-respect that grow.

There is a courage that unflawed endures
The sneer, the slander of earth's epicures.
    And here are grateful women's hearts to show
This kindness and this courage, both are yours!

Dear mother, from the sure sun and warm seas
Of Italy, I, sick, remember now
What sometimes is forgot in times of ease,
Our love, the always felt but unspoken vow.
So send I beckoning hands from here to there,
And kiss your black once, now white thin-grown hair
And your stooped small shoulder and pinched brow.

Here, mother, there is sunshine every day;
It warms the bones and breathes upon the heart;
But you I see out-plod a little way,
Bitten with cold; your cheeks and fingers smart.
Would you were here, we might in temples lie,
And look from azure into azure sky,
And paradise achieve, slipping death's part.

But now 'tis time for sleep: I think no speech
There needs to pass between us what we mean,
For we soul-venturing mingle each with each.
...

Young Alick gate wed, as all gradely chaps do,
An tuk Sally for better or war;
A daycenter felly ne'er foller'd a ploo, -
Th' best lad ov his mother's bi far.

An shoo wor as nice a young lass as yo'll see
In a day's march, aw'll wager mi hat;
But yo know unless fowk's dispositions agree,
Tho' they're bonny, - noa matter for that.

They'd better bi hawf have a hump o' ther rig,
Or be favvor'd as ill as old Flew;
If ther temper is sweet, chaps 'll net care a fig,
Tho' his wife may have one ee or two.

Young Sally had nivver been used to a farm,
An shoo seem'd to know nowt abaat wark;
Shoo set wi' her tooas up o'th' fender to warm,
Readin novels throo mornin to dark.

Alick saw 'at sich like gooins on wod'nt do,
Soa one neet when they'd ...

When, like a garment flung aside at night,
This body lies, or sculpture of cold rest;
When through its shaded windows comes no light,
And the white hands are folded on its breast;

How will it be with Me, its tenant now?
How shall I feel when first I wander out?
How look on tears from loved eyes falling? How
Look forth upon dim mysteries round about?

Shall I go forth, slow-floating like a mist,
Over the city with its crowded walls?
Over the trees and meadows where I list?
Over the mountains and their ceaseless falls?

Over the red cliffs and fantastic rocks;
Over the sea, far-down, fleeting away;
White sea-birds shining, and the billowy shocks
Heaving unheard their shore-besieging spray?

Or will a veil, o'er all material things
Slow-...

    Herbert broke our engagement of eight years
    When Annabelle returned to the village From the
    Seminary, ah me!
    If I had let my love for him alone
    It might have grown into a beautiful sorrow -
    Who knows? - filling my life with healing fragrance.
    But I tortured it, I poisoned it
    I blinded its eyes, and it became hatred -
    Deadly ivy instead of clematis.
    And my soul fell from its support
    Its tendrils tangled in decay.
    Do not let the will play gardener to your soul
    Unless you are sure
    It is wiser than your soul's nature.

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Doubled-lived in regions new?
Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wondrous,
And the parle of voices thund'rous;
With the whisper of heaven's trees
And one another, in soft ease
Seated on Elysian lawns
Browsed by none but Dian's fawns;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
Where the daisies are rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not;
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine melodious truth;
Philosophic numbers smooth;
Tales and golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.

Thus ye live on high, and then
On...

Lord Christ, let me but hold Thy hand
And all the rest may go.
For nothing is, but only seems,
And life is full of idle dreams,
        Until Thyself we know.

The whole wide world is nought beside
The wonder of Thy love.
And though my state be mean and strait,
Give me but heart to work and wait,
        And I have Treasure-Trove.

I

But yesterday
I looked away
O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay
In golden blots
Inlaid with spots
Of shade and wild forget-me-nots.

My head was fair
With flaxen hair,
And fragrant breezes, faint and rare,
And warm with drouth
From out the south,
Blew all my curls across my mouth.

And, cool and sweet,
My naked feet
Found dewy pathways through the wheat;
And out again
Where, down the lane,
The dust was dimpled with the rain.


II

But yesterday: -
Adream, astray,
From morning's red to evening's gray,
O'er dales and hills
Of daffodils
And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills.

I knew nor cares
Nor tears nor prayers -
A mortal god, crowned unawares
With sunset - a...

Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,
For, old or new,
All that is good in them belongs
Only to you;

And, singing as when all was young,
They will recall
Those others, lived but left unsung -
The bent of all.
W. E. H
APRIL 1888
SEPTEMBER 1897.

You, who are four years old;
You, with the eyes of blue;
You with the age of gold
Young in the heart of you,
Boy with the eyes of blue:

You, with the face so fair,
Innocent-uttered words,
All the glad sunlight there,
Music of all the birds,
Boy, in your face and words:

Take you my sheaf of rhymes,
Sung for your childish ear;
Rhymes you have loved at times
Begged for, and sat to hear,
Lending a loving ear.

Since you have listened, sweet,
They to some worth attained;
Since in your heart's young beat
They for a while remained,
They to some worth attained.

Lasso, che mal accorto fui da prima.

HE PRAYS LOVE TO KINDLE ALSO IN HER THE FLAME BY WHICH HE IS UNCEASINGLY TORMENTED.


    Alas! this heart by me was little known
In those first days when Love its depths explored,
Where by degrees he made himself the lord
Of my whole life, and claim'd it as his own:
I did not think that, through his power alone,
A heart time-steel'd, and so with valour stored,
Such proof of failing firmness could afford,
And fell by wrong self-confidence o'erthrown.
Henceforward all defence too late will come,
Save this, to prove, enough or little, here
If to these mortal prayers Love lend his ear.
Not now my prayer--nor can such e'er have room--
That with more mercy he consume my heart,
But in the fire that she may bear ...

Fate gave the word, the arrow sped,  
        And pierc'd my darling's heart;  
    And with him all the joys are fled  
        Life can to me impart.  
    By cruel hands the sapling drops,  
        In dust dishonour'd laid:  
    So fell the pride of all my hopes,  
        My age's future shade.

    The mother-linnet in the brake  
        Bewails her ravish'd young;  
    So I, for my lost darling's sake,  
        Lament the live day long.  
    Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,  
        Now, fond I bare my breast,  
    O, do thou kindly lay me low  
        With him I love, at rest!