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Verses, Wise or Otherwise
By the Same Author.
CUPID'S GARDEN.
A Volume of Stories. 3s. 6d.
" Most delightful stories of love and
marriage. The conversation is amazingly
clever." — Methodist Times.
\* Also People's Edition, 6d.
CASSELL Sr COMPANY, LimUcd, Londm;
Paris, New York & Melbourtu.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise
With which are incorporated
Verses, Grave and Gay
BY
ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER
(MRS. A. L. FELKIN)
MCMV
CASSELL AND COMPANY, Limited
LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS.
FAGB
The Wisdom of Folly 13
A Transmigkation of Souls 15
An Illusion 17
Her Parting Shaft ig
"A Blank, my Lord" 20
Without Understanding 22
Too Sure 24
The Planet Mars 26
A Forsaken Idol 28
A Passing Glimpse 30
Three Stages 32
A Cool Customer 33
A Subject Race 35
The Sleeping Beauty. Part I. 37
The Sleeping Beauty. Part II 40
A Leap- Year Idyll 42
A Quartette of Queens 45
An Iconoclast 47
vi Contents.
rACB
The Unattainable 49
When Swallows Build S*
A False God S3
My Ideal 55
In the Court of the Gentiles . . . . 56
The Praise of Men 58
Love's Slayer 60
Not Forsaken 62
The Man in the Iron Mask 64
"For Better, for Worse" 66
Within my Heart 69
The Lost Love 72
Disappointed 75
The Women of Weinsberg (From the German) ... 78
Golden Daffodils 81
Lent Lilies ... 84
When? 86
Thou and I 87
An Autumn Song 88
Instead 90
Love's Portion 92
The Longest Day 96
Pot-Pourri 98
Contents. vii
PAGE
Which? loo
Now AS Then 102
A Song of Loves 104
In Coldest England 106
Among the Roses 108
An Old Love no
An Epic of Staffordshire 112
The Children of Men 120
"Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh" .... 125
The Shepherd's Search 128
The Hermit 132
Loss and Gain 13S
Sunshine and Shadow 137
Wings 138
Happiness -139
Purple and Gold 140
Ivy 142
A Weaving Song i44
Granny's Good-night 14S
A Wish .146
Pictures and Painters 147
Harvest Hymn 148
Recessional Hymn 151
viii Contents.
Sonnets.
PAGE
Without iS7
Ways of Pleasantness iS^
A Closed Door iS9
Incognita i6o
My Complement i6i
An Awakening . . 162
The Password 163
A Name .... 164
On a Picture of the Grand Canal, Venice . . . 165
"When the World was YOung" 166
Anticipations ... 167
Dreams 168
On the Shore 169
The Commonplace 170
Two Friends . . 171
Sunshine 172
Night 173
An Old Legend 174
To My Friend 175
Contents. ix
PAGE
To My Lady 176
Loyalty 177
"As IN A Glass". . 178
A Spring Breeze 179
Nature's Apathy 180
Tired 181
To THE Old Year 182
To THE New Year 183
Pearly Gates . . 184
"A Rainbow round about the Throne" . . .185
In the Garden 186
To the Heliotrope 187
"In Darkest England" i88
Imperfections 189
The Battle of Life 190
Figures of the True 191
Stream and Lake 192
The Breton Fishermen's Prayer 193
The Best till Last 194
Means and End i95
No Room 196
Easter-Day ... 197
High and Lowly 198
X Contents.
PAGE
The Dead and the Living 199
The Evening and the Morning 2C30
Wulfruna's Hampton 201
On the Opening of the Imperial Institute . . . 202
VERSES, WISE OR OTHERWISE
My two earliest books, "Verses, Grave and
Gay" and "Verses, Wise or Otherwise," being out
of print, I have — in compliance with the requests of
numerous kind readers — brought out a new edition
of these works, combining them in one volume
for the greater convenience of all concerned, and
making such omissions as I thought desirable.
E. T. F.
VERSES, WISE OR OTHERWISE.
The cynics say that every rose
Is guarded by a thorn which grows
To spoil our posies :
But I no pleasure therefore lack ;
I keep my hands behind my back
When snjelling roses.
'Tis proved that Sodom's apple-tarts
Have ashes as component parts
For those that steal them :
My soul no disillusion seeks ;
I love my apples' rosy cheeks,
But never peel them.
14 Vekses, Wise or Otherwise.
Though outwardly a gloomy shroud,
The inner half of every cloud
Is bright and shining :
I therefore turn my clouds about,
And always wear them inside out
To show the lining.
Our idols' feet are made of clay ;
So stony-hearted critics say
With scornful mockings :
My images are deified
Because I keep them well supplied
With shoes and stockings.
My modus operandi this —
To take no heed of what's amiss ;
And not a bad one :
Because, as Shakspere used to say,
A merry heart goes twice the way
That tires a sad one.
IS
91 Cran£fmiffratiott of ^oulsf*
It was whispered by the sages
Of the prehistoric ages,
When all telegrams and newspapers and letters were
unknown,
That the heathen gods felt jealous —
So the ancient legends tell us —
When the happiness of mortals was more perfect than
their own.
In the days that I have quoted
You and I, dear, were devoted
To each other with a fervour which we never, never
see
In this age of shams and shoddies :
For our souls wore Grecian bodies.
And found life a very pleasant thing in sunny Arcady.
1 6 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Then the heathen gods grew spiteful
As our lot was so delightful,
And they said, "These twain shall live again when
worldliness is rife ;
And when we are out of fashion
They shall nurse a hopeless passion.
And shall learn that love counts nothing in the game
of human life."
But we love again to-day, dear.
In the old ecstatic way, dear.
Though we see each other rarely and our paths lie
far apart :
Ancient gods and modern London
Have been overthrown and undone,
When they tried alike their utmost to expel you from
my heart.
And my people ask politely
How a friend I know so slightly
Can be more to me than others I have liked a year
or so ?
But they cannot solve the mystery
Of our transmigration's history,
For they've no idea I loved you those millenniums
ago.
17
9in Illusion*
Do you know that the sight of your face,
Though I see you each day of the seven,
Can transfigure the commonest place
Into something that seems to be heaven ?
Do you know that the sound of your voice,
When you utter a brief salutation.
Bids the stars of the morning rejoice
As they did at the dawn of creation ?
Do you know that the clasp of your hand.
In a purely conventional greeting,
Makes this earth a mysterious land
Where the fairies are holding a meeting ?
Do you know that the ways you pass by,
When the stream of the traffic is flowing,
Are like ladders which lead to the sky,
Whereon angels are coming and going ?
B
1 8 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Do you know that your Yea or your Nay
Lays its clasp on my soul like a fetter ?
Whilst regarding myself I can say
That I know that I ought to know better.
19
ier parting ^mu
Farewell for ever, my dear sir,
Your pride and prejudice incur
My wrath beyond all measure :
I am aweary of your ways.
So scarce and scanty is your praise,
So scathing your displeasure.
The poet's solitude d deux
Would prove no heaven on earth with you.
Whose satire is unswerving :
Far better you should try your hand
In petty purgatories planned
For folk you deem deserving.
Go, trample fools beneath your feet.
And sit upon the scorner's seat,
And sneer at those about you !
Whilst as for me ? — I should prefer
Your Purgatory, my dear sir,
To Paradise without you.
20
**9i iSIanfe, Mv itort.
»»
" We met (like others) in a crowd " —
A very unromantic meeting !
Yet fate to us has ne'er allowed
A warmer greeting.
For you were poor, you will allow,
And 'I was not, that bright September
When first we met. (I wonder now
If you remember.)
In fashion's chains you saw me led,
And so it never struck you clearly
That it could come into my head
To love you dearly.
'Twas not your fault, I must admit ;
You simply worshipped from a distance,
And I could take no note of it
Without assistance.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 21
And thus we drifted far apart,
Not bound by e'en the frailest fetter ;
Yet yours completely was my heart
For worse or better.
So, owing to your fatal pride,
And owing to my foolish shyness,
The love, you never knew of, died
For ever.
FINIS.
22
So without saying a word we've parted,
Though that you loved me full well I knew :
Little you guess I am broken-hearted —
Little you think that I cared for you.
Vainly I looked in your face, and vainly
Thrilled at your touch when you clasped my hand
I was unable to speak more plainly —
You were unable to understand.
Why did you take all I said for certain
When I so gleefully threw the glove .'
Couldn't you see that I made a curtain
Out of my laughter to hide my love ?
Didn't you know that your daily greeting
Sounded like strains from an angel band ?
Though to that measure my pulse was beating,
You were unable to understand.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 23
Wherefore my wonderful dream is over ;
Finis is written on Fancy's scroll :
You are on desolate shores a rover —
I must in patience possess my soul.
What though my heart was a mark for Cupid —
What though our way lay through fairyland ?
All availed nothing, since you — you stupid ! —
You were unable to understand.
24
Coo ^ure*
Sweetheart, you trusted me completely —
More than I trusted in myself :
On mere acquaintances smiled sweetly,
But friends you left upon the shelf.
Believing they would bow before you
However careless you might be :
And so you lost the love I bore you,
Because you made too sure of me.
You had no thought of being cruel —
To you I know my love was dear :
But would you keep a precious jewel
Unwatched while thieves were prowling near ?
Or would you leave a golden lily
To grow unguarded on the lea ?
If love is priceless, it was silly
To make so very sure of me.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 25
Now choose another friend, my sweet one,
Among the thousands passing by :
There is no doubt but you will meet one
More suited to your taste than I.
All vain regrets I bid you smother,
And learn this lesson " gratis free,"
To be as careful of that other
As you have been too sure of me.
26
Wt)t ^lamt iMarsi,
There are people living in Mars, they say,
Enjoying the lease of a longer year
And a starrier night and a sunnier day
And steadier climates than we have here.
Are their Winters blighted by want and woe,
Their Summers by pestilence, plague and thunder ?
Do they suffer there as we do below,
I wonder?
Do they plant and water their rosy fields.
And struggle with sorrow and fight with fears.
While the thorns and thistles their red earth yields
Are choking the seed that they sowed in tears ?
Do they trust in idols of stone and wood.
And trample the meek and the lowly under ?
Do they love the evil and leave the good,
I wonder?
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 27
Or a happier world may it be than this,
Where sin hath not entered nor death by sin ;
Which is blushing still from Creation's kiss,
Whilst never a serpent has slidden in ?
And if we may wander among the stars
When body and spirit are riven asunder,
Shall we live life over again in Mars,
I wonder ?
Shall we find what here we have sought in vain —
Fulfilling ideals where once we failed ?
With the crooked made straight and the rough made
plain,
Will difficult mountains at last be scaled ?
Shall we cleanse our ways and redeem our worth,
Repair the old wastes and retrieve each blunder ?
Shall we meet in Mars all we missed on Earth,
I wonder ?
28
Jacob buried his gods at Shechem —
Cast-oflf idols of stone and wood ;
Well he wot they would ne'er bespeak him
Further evil nor future good :
Nevertheless he could not treat them
Just like pieces of wood and stone,
When he thought how he'd tried to seat them
Up aloft on an altar-throne.
Once an idol I fondly cherished,
Which was known by the name you bear ;
But my faith in its virtues perished
When I found it was false as fair :
Nevertheless I could not break it
Like an image of worthless clay.
When I thought how I'd tried to make it
All I ever could hope or pray.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 29
In my heart — down a shady hollow
Where the willow of weeping waves —
Hide false gods, I was wont to follow,
Out of sight in forgotten graves.
There you lie with no name above you.
With no epitaph false or true,
Save the fact that I used to love you
Ere at Shechem I buried you.
30
For many a frivolous, festive year
I followed the path that I felt I must :
I failed to discover the road was drear,
And rather than otherwise liked the dust.
It lay through a land that I knew of old,
Frequented by friendly, familiar folk
Who bowed before Mammon, and heaped up gold.
And lived like their neighbours, and loved their
joke.
You told me to look through a fast-locked gate
Which led to a garden in fairyland.
Where roses were reigning in royal state
With never a thorn for the gleaner's hand ;
Where lilies with honey-sweet dew were filled.
And love-birds were flitting from tree to tree ;
Where frosts never entered nor fierce winds chilled :
But closed was that gateway to you and me.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 31
That glimpse of the garden across the way
Has left me henceforth for the road unfit :
The traffic rolls onward from day to day,
And sick is my soul at the sound of it.
Oh ! why did you dangle before mine eyes
Desirable fruit that the Fates forbid
Lest we, like to gods, should grow great and wise ?
And yet on the whole I am glad you did.
32
I BELIEVED you an angel the first time we met,
Undefiled by life's flurry and fever and fret,
So I deigned to approve you.
Then I learned you were not all my fancy had weened.
So I straightway decided you must be a fiend,
And I sought to remove you.
Now I find you are something half-way'twixt the two —
Neither angel nor fiend but just human are you.
And I know that I love you.
33
9i Cool Ciisitomen
My friend, you make a rule, I see.
In passing through this valley tearful
To keep your heart completely free
From feelings fond or fierce or fearful.
You stand aloof from Fate's swift stream,
And smile at Folly's sons and daughters
With wonder that they ever dream
Of dabbling in such dangerous waters.
Pray hear a fable of a fool
Who lit a fire, rejoicing in it.
Because he felt the day was cool
And growing cooler every minute.
But when the smoke began to rise
Beyond the height of his desire,
He said : " Perchance I was unwise
To play with such a thing as fire."
C
34 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
And so he blew his bonfire out,
Extinguishing its fitful flashes ;
He flung the cinders all about,
Then died of cold among the ashes :
Remarking with his latest breath,
" In living coals some danger lingers ;
So if one can but freeze to death
One wisely never burns one's fingers."
35
They knew not whence the tyrant came,
They did not even know his name ;
Yet he compelled them one and all
To bow in bondage to his thrall ;
And from their lips allegiance wrung,
Although a stranger to their tongue.
Whilst he was wrapped in royal state,
Their hours of toil were long and late :
No moment could they call their own
Within the precincts of the throne ;
And when they dreamed their work was o'er
He only made them slave the more.
Although the conquering king was he
Of people who had once been free.
No word of praise or promise fell
From him his subjects served so well ;
And none of those who crowned him lord.
Received a shadow of reward.
36 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Obedience to his behest
Destroyed their peace, disturbed their rest ;
Yet when his drowsy eyes grew dim,
No mortal dared to waken him :
They stole about with stealthy tread —
" The baby is asleep," they said.
37
PART I.
A FAIRY Prince supremely brave and good,
When searching for knight-errantly adventures,
Chanced on a Sleeping Beauty in a wood.
Condemned by ancient usage's indentures
To close to politics each pretty eyelid,
Lest her sweet soul should thereby be defilM.
The Prince at first was much perplexed and pained
At the existence of so sore a scandal :
" Woman," he cried, " in all men's hearts has reigned
And trampled them to dust beneath her sandal ;
Yet where's the champion that the Fates have sent us
To give to her the Vote ? — Non est inventus ! "
But then he mused, " To win the world's applause
Men soon become hard, bellicose and spiteful ;
They scratch each other with their conscience-claws
38 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
And disagreement loud they find delightful :
Then would the preaching of this harsh evangel
Be suited to ' the ministering angel ' ?
" When Eve employed her influence in the State,
We did not thank her for her interference :
Boadicea was not blest by Fate
In spite of all the charms of her appearance ;
While Clytemnestra, with some other ladies,
Works out her sentence, I have read, in Hades.
" Xantippe, if her temper was aflame,
Was quite unpleasant when they tried to tease her ;
Queen Mary — though a most religious dame —
Lighted the fire with folks who didn't please her ;
And Troy — unless historians betray us —
Owed all its woes to Mrs. Menelaus.
" Elizabeth sat firm upon her throne ;
But when she found opinions did not vary
That Scotland's royal charms eclipsed her own,
She soon decapitated Cousin Mary.
Woman for public life has too much gumption,
But was expressly made for home consumption.
" For, lovely woman, though perchance you wield
Your power capriciously in times of leisure.
And are distinguished on life's battle-field
Vmrses, Wise or Otherwise. 39
By neither giving nor receiving pleasure ;
' When pain and anguish wring ' the aching forehead,
Why then, you know, you're anything but horrid !
" Woman, when sheltered from the storm and strife.
Gains more distinct advantage than she misses.
(So does the State, I think.) Upon my life,
I'd rather not awake her with my kisses ! "
The Prince departed with this sentence racy,
" Dear lady ! — requiescat still in pace"
The Sleeping Beauty murmured in her dreams,
" A nice young man, and one that I could care for.
As for his arguments on social themes,
I fail to understand their why and wherefore.
His hair is curly and his arm strong-sinewed :
I wonder who he is."
{To be continued.)
40
PART II.
Though princes left unkissed the Beauty's brow,
The Spirit of the Age could not allow
Perfection
Like hers to be politically nil,
Or suffer what was termed by Stuart Mill
" Subjection."
The Spirit of the Age politely tapped
The lady's door, remarking as he rapped,
" My daughter.
Since Reason's sun has risen over all,
'Tis time for thee to hear the morning call —
Hot water !
" The night of woman's bondage now is gone.
When work and warfare by the men were done
(And wooing):
The lark sings loud — the lily opes her cup —
None sleep save thee ; so, lady fair, be up
And doing ! "
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 41
At first the Beauty thought she would arise
And open her bewildered, dreamy eyes
Completely :
But then she shrank from ills she did not know,
And, clinging blindly to the status quo,
Said sweetly :
" Into hot water I should get no doubt
If I obeyed your call, and bring about
Confusion.
Like Dr. Watts's Sluggard, I complain,
• Too soon you've waked me — I must sleep again ! ' "
{Conclusion.)
42
91 Ceap#ear JljpIL
Once on a time there lived a little maiden
In that strange land which lies beneath the sun,
Whose loyal heart with love was overladen
For one
Who meant to keep unmarried till his latter day,
Whose tastes were simple and whose cares were
few,
Who read his Times, and revelled in his Saturday
Review.
It was the longed-for year when love-sick spinsters
Lead bachelors, who have not sought a bride,
Up middle-aisles of dim, religious minsters
With pride.
On Leap-year wooings and on Leap-year winnings
The mind of the undaunted maiden ran ;
So she, determined to enjoy her innings.
Began
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 43
(Her voice, as she proceeded, growing snappier):
" Dear Sir, however happy you may be,
I'm certain you'd be infinitely happier
With me.
" A wife would share your every little trouble,
Increasing every joy your heart that fills ;
She'd halve your income, and exactly double
Your bills.
" Hark how the poets woman's praise are singing !
You doubt their words, but you will find them
true
When pain and anguish undertake the wringing
Of you.
" O man, proud man ! how sad a fate would his be
If lovely woman from his side retired :
Pyramus, when divided from his Thisbe,
Expired :
" Jack minus Jill, forsooth, had fallen flatter :
Darby was nobody without his Joan :
Jack Spratt could never have cleaned out the
platter
Alone :
44 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
" King Edward found his Queen's assistance handy
When poisoned arrows nearly spoiled the fun :
Griselda proved her modus operandi
Ai.
" To tell like stories I can gladly go on
For hours and hours with rapid tongue and glib —
Quote Enid, Portia, Juliet, and so on,
Ad lib. —
" To prove my point until at last you see it ;
And you must take my word for it till then."
The hapless victim meekly sighed, " So be it,
Amen."
45
91 iBmttttU of (Bmtm.
Like those three goddesses who ruled the earth
And used Olympus as their private chapel,
Who went to Paris to decide their worth
After the disagreement of the apple —
The Queens at cards began to quibble meanly,
And quarrel as to which appeared most queenly.
Clubs' sovereign lady opened the debate —
" My rank entitles me to be your foreman ;
My family has been accounted great
Since we came over with the conquering Norman
'Twould be impossible to overrate us,
Regarding our unequalled social status."
The Queen of Diamonds said, " The love of pelf
Forms the mainspring of every human action ;
And so where'er I go I find myself
A solid ten-per-centre of attraction :
I always have wherewith to gild the bolus.
And make life's stream a regular Pactolus."
46 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Her Majesty of Spades cried, " I adore
The Tree of Knowledge, cool and green and shady ;
Among its roots I delved for hidden lore
Till I became a highly-cultured lady,
And learned to call the tool wherewith I grovel
A prehistoric or Adamic shovel."
Hearts' Queen observed, " My fortune is my face ;
I am not great at books or work or cooking ;
My temper's good, my form is full of grace,
And everyone considers me nice-looking ;
But not my most devoted friends would ever
Describe me as distinguished, rich or clever."
These rival spirits were so much aflame.
That to control themselves they were not able ;
So, heedless of the grammar of the game.
They sprang in quick succession on the table ;
Hearts' reigning beauty took the trick instanter.
And beat her royal sisters in a canter.
Whereat exclaimed the three disgusted Queens,
"In Denmark's state there's surely something rotten !
We've not the faintest notion what it means."
That Hearts were trumps they'd all of them for-
gotten,
And that — till men and manners strangely alter —
" Love rules court, camp, and grove." *
* See Scott (Sir Walter).
47
I CARVED an idol out of wood,
And worshipped it while it was new ;
But you came by and said " What good
Can that unmeaning object do ? "
With coolness culled from thirty winters
You broke my idol into splinters.
I hewed an idol out of stone,
The whitest stone I ever saw ;
But by your proving it was shown
The marble had a hidden flaw.
Regardless of my heartstrings' quivers
You smashed my idol into shivers.
Your wisdom made me worn and old
And sick of life beneath the sun ;
Yet you passed onward, calm and cold,
Unconscious of the harm you'd done
By your crusade so strictly truthful
Against enthusiasms youthful.
48 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
But sometime in the coming years
I hope that you may build a shrine,
And have it hurled about your ears
As you have dealt with me and mine ;
And meet — when like myself deluded —
With Mrs. Be-done-by-as-you-did.
49
€i)t 2HnattainatiIe,
For the round and radiant moon
Once I cried,
But it happened that the boon
Was denied ;
For the cruel Fates decreed
That the pain
And the anguish of my need
Should remain.
So I turned again to earth
For relief :
Even moons are hardly worth
So much grief:
And I played with common toys
In my reach,
Till I wearied of the joys
Hid in each.
D
50 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Then I raised my jaded eyes
To the sky,
While I watched the white moon rise,
With the cry —
" Better want the best, and waste
All our pains,
Than obtain the less, and taste
Lower gains ! "
If we scorn unworthy things
More and more.
While our thoughts on angel-wings
Upward soar.
Shall we find above the sphere
Of our woes
All the moons we cried for here ? —
No one knows.
51
The wakening earth with ecstasy is thrilled,
And gladness tunes the note of every bird ;
Yet in my soul strange memories are stirred
When swallows build.
I miss those fragrant flowers the frost has killed,
Which bloomed in blushing beauty yester-year ;
And songs of bygone Springs I seem to hear
When swallows build :
For into lonely hearts there is instilled
The longing for a love as yet unknown,
But which they fondly yearn to call their own
When swallows build.
So deem me neither sullen nor self-willed
If in the Spring I sing no psalm of glee.
But hang my harp upon a willow-tree
When swallows build.
52 Verses, Wise ok Otherwise.
With gladness shall my Summer song be filled,
My Christmas carol and my Harvest hymn :
But let my lips be dumb, mine eyes be dim,
When swallows build.
53
Once I made me a god with a head of wood,
And a heart of stone ;
And I thought that the sum of created good
Was in him alone.
So I sharpened my wit and I strove to please
By the words I said ;
But the god I had made had no room for these
In his wooden head.
Then I poured out my love on the path he trod,
As he walked apart ;
But what use was mere love to a senseless god
With a stony heart .■'
I discovered the error of these my ways
When I learned to see :
But the god that I made in my foolish days
Had the best of me.
54 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
I have gained in my wisdom, perchance, but lost
What the world called wit ;
For the god that I formed at such bitter cost
Crushed the life of it.
And no more shall I love with my heart and soul
Till I cease to live ;
For the god of my worship absorbed the whole
That I had to give.
I deserve to be beaten with heavy rods,
For I might have known
That their sorrows are many who make them gods
Out of wood and stone.
55
When I met with you first in the olden days,
While life was beginning and love was new,
All the charms and the virtues most meet for praise
Seemed wrapped in one parcel and labelled You ;
So your word was my guide and your face my chart :
You were then my Ideal, Sweetheart, Sweetheart !
When I learned that your ways were unlike to mine,
And that my thoughts and your thoughts were not
the same,
There were rifts in the lute, but I can't divine
If either or both of us were to blame ;
Yet my love for you turned to a cruel smart :
You were not my Ideal, Sweetheart, Sweetheart !
When you went to the land where the angels dwell
And left me to linger beneath the sun,
I forgot all your faults, but remembered well
How dear you had been ere your day was done.
Of a truth it was best we were doomed to part :
You are still my Ideal, Sweetheart, Sweetheart !
56
in tfte Court ot tf)t 0mtUts.
Now it fell on a day that you opened wide
The door of your heart to me,
And I timidly ventured to peep inside,
The treasures thereof to see.
But you graciously bade me to enter in
And gaze on your inmost soul.
That your knowledge might knowledge in me begin—
Your wisdom might make me whole.
And because you thus called me from want and woe
To feast on your spirit's store,
On the strength of that meat I was fain to go
For forty odd days and more.
Then it happened again that I humbly stood
In front of your heart and knocked,
For my soul was athirst to be filled with good :
Alas ! but the door was locked ;
V BUSES, W/SB OR Otherwise. 57
And "Shall strangers be welcome," you proudly
said,
" To eat of the rich man's fare ?
Is it meet that the dogs should receive the bread
Which falls to the children's share ? "
Oh ! the gate of your soul was your own, to do
Therewith as might please you best —
To be opened for many to enter through.
Or closed at your stern behest :
Yet I wonder you let me come in at all,
Dispelling my doubt and fear,
If the iron portcullis was bound to fall
Next time I should venture near.
Peradventure my spirit was over-bold,
Deserving a sharp retort ;
But I know to my cost it is dark and cold
Out here in the Strangers' Court
58
Wf)t praisie of Mm*
Children in the market-place,
Merrily I piped to you ;
Yet the dance which was my due
Ne'er was trod with dainty pace.
Then I turned a troubled face
And my words were faint and few ;
Yet no pitying tears I drew,
Children in the market-place !
Children in the market-place.
Unto me your Nay was Nay,
Though I longed to join your play
And to feel your warm embrace.
Vainly have I run my race —
Vainly worshipped gods of clay :
Now, too late, I learn your way.
Children in the market-place !
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 59
Children in the market-place,
I am crying on my knees,
" That I lived for such as these
Is the depth of my disgrace.
Spare me yet a little space ;
And life's wine upon the lees
Shall not be outpoured to please
Children in the market-place ! "
6o
" Dear lady," cried he,
" Can thy love for me
Be gone past recall like the morning dew ?
Was the world so cold
That our joy untold
Lay withered and dead while it yet was new ? "
With pitiful pathos she shook her head ;
" True love doth not die of the cold," she said.
" Kind lady," cried he,
" Can it truly be
That love which seemed perfect hath passed away ?
In affliction's night
Did it lose its light,
Which faded and fled like the dying day ? "
Her eyelids were heavy with tears unshed ;
" True love doth not die in the dark," she said.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 6i
" Fair lady," cried he,
" Didst thou chance to see,
When fate was unfolded before thy face,
That the dreary page
Of advancing age
Was hardly the leaf that thy love could trace ? "
With sorrowful anger her brow grew red ;
" True love doth not die of old age," she said.
" Sweet lady," cried he,
" Did I keep from thee
My best love for ever, and give my worst ?
Didst thou hold but part
Of mine inmost heart.
Where thou wert the second and I was first ? "
She lifted a face on which hope lay dead ;
" 'Twas selfishness slew my true love," she said.
62
The public never heard his name,
So took no notice when he died ;
His little world went on the same,
Yet paused in passing to deride
A wretch who counted not the cost.
But played the game of life — and lost.
" A luckless wight," his brothers said ;
" The foe of no one but himself ! "
His sisters half disdained the dead
Who left them neither place nor pelf.
His kinsmen, in reproachful gloom.
Inscribed their Tekel on his tomb.
His dearest friends exclaimed, " Poor fool !
He made a muddle of his life ;
He won no honours in its school.
He wore no laurels in its strife.''
So he was cursed of all his clan,
Except of me, who loved the man.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 63
I wonder if the world to come
Will be as hard a world as this,
With glory for the favoured Some
Who take the prize and taste the bliss ;
But for the failing Many scorn
Too harsh and bitter to be borne ?
If so, my soul will roam afar
From streets of gold and streams of light,
And seek him in some distant star
Beyond the dark abyss of night.
Though harps be dumb and crowns be dim
I care not, if I comfort him.
64
€i}t ilan m tfte Jron ilasfe*
You were left in the depths of a dungeon to languish
With no hope to dispel the gloom ;
And we picture your features disfigured by anguish
In their terrible iron tomb ;
For your food was the bitterest bread of affliction,
And your flagon a tear-filled flask,
While your spirit was seared with Despair's super-
scription,
O Man in the Iron Mask 1
Yet we mimic your fate, you mysterious traitor,
In so far as it suits our ken ;
For the image we bear of our mighty Creator
We conceal from the gaze of men.
By a visor composed of absurd affectations
We regard it our noblest task
To disguise our true selves and our best aspirations,
O Man in the Iron Mask !
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 65
But it fell on a day that by Death you were smitten,
And you flung off your fetters grim :
Then God read on your forehead what Life had there
written,
For no masks will avail with Him.
And as Truth cannot fail, though men flout and for-
sake her,
For our guidance we fain would ask
How you felt when your face was exposed to its
Maker,
O Man in the Iron Mask !
E
66
ft
jfor 35etter, for WiQv^u'*
Quoth he, " Sweetheart, thou art young and fair,
And thy story has just begun ;
But I am as old
As a tale that is told,
And the days of my youth are done."
" O'er ruins olden the clinging moss
Doth a mantle of velvet spread :
Shall the climbing flower
Be more to the tower
Than I to my Love ? " she said.
Quoth he, " Sweetheart, thou hast lands and gold.
And thou knowest not want nor woe ;
As a beggar poor
I stand at thy door,
And I only can love thee so."
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 6j
" Through leafless forests the sunbeams creep,
All the wealth of their gold to shed :
And are they more fair
To the woodland bare
Than I to my Love ? " she said.
Quoth he, " Sweetheart thou art good and kind.
And wouldst never the lowest spurn ;
But the storm of life
With its toil and strife
Has rendered me harsh and stern."
" The brooklet murmurs its sweetest lays
As it makes for the rocks ahead :
Shall the streamlet's song
Be more brave and strong
Than I for my Love ? " she said.
Quoth he, " Sweetheart, thou art blithe and gay,
And thou never hast known a care ;
But my face is worn
And my heart is torn
With the sorrow I've had to bear.'''
" The stars ne'er spangle the sapphire sky
Till the brightness of day has fled :
Shall the pale starlight
Be truer to night
Than I to my Love ? " she said.
68 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Quoth he, " Sweetheart, who art young and fair.
Will thy wonderful love to me
Through sorrow and shame
Be always the same ? "
" Nay, it rather will grow," said she.
Again he cried, " Will it last. Sweetheart,
Till thy lover lies cold and dead.
And thy latest breath
Has been hushed in death ? "
" Aye, longer than that," she said.
60
Dearest, in my heart's recesses
Thou wilt find no lonely spot
Which thy presence never blesses —
Where the thought of thee is not.
Pass the open doors and straightway
Search the chambers, scale the stair :
Still from battlement to gateway
Thou art always everywhere.
In the nursery, where unbidden
Dust has buried childish joys,
Memories of thee are hidden
With the long-forsaken toys.
In the castle-turrets airy.
Built, ere girlhood's dreams had flown,
By some strange fantastic fairy.
Thou art still the corner-stone.
yo Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
In the happy pleasure-garden
Thou art walking all the while ;
Winter frosts can never harden
In the sunlight of thy smile.
At thy touch the fragrant spices
All their sweetest perfumes yield,
And the honey that suffices
Fills the lilies of the field.
In the dungeon's darkest centre,
Where the iron has been wrought
Which within the soul must enter
Ere the final fight is fought —
Where forsaken hopes are flitting
Pale and ghostlike through the gloom-
Even there I find thee sitting
Like the Angel on the Tomb.
In the Holiest, when the chrism
Of the mystic Gilead-balm
Soothes me with its sweet baptism
As I hear the far-off psalm
Sung by seraph-choirs to guide me
Up the sloping altar-stairs,
Then I feel thee close beside me.
And thy voice is one with theirs.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 71
Hope may fail and Faith may falter,
Art and Learning may decay,
Tongues may cease and times may alter,
Prophecy may pass away ;
But as long as Love immortal
In its strength unshaken stands.
Thou shalt dwell within the portal
Of my house not made with hands.
72
Thou art not to blame, dear,
That my soul is hurt ;
Thou art just the same, dear,
As thou always wert ;
Thou wouldst never grieve me-
Thou art far too kind :
'Tis myself, believe me,
That I have to mind.
For I fell a-dreaming
Once upon a time,
In my folly deeming
Simple things sublime ;
And the best ideal
That my heart could frame
Seemed a being real
Christened by thy name.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 73
What thou really art, love —
What my fancy guessed —
Are as far apart, love,
As the East and West.
All my adoration
Was bestowed in vain
On the mere creation
Of my foolish brain.
Can I scold thee, seeing
All the blame was mine }
Scorn thee for not being
Other self than thine ?
Thou wert not in fault, dear.
Even in my Sight,
That I did exalt, dear,
Thee to such a height.
Through the long to-morrow,
I, who did this thing.
Must endure the sorrow
It is bound to bring ;
Showing by no token
How my heart doth ache
And is well-nigh broken
By my own mistake.
74 Verses, Wise or Otherwise,
I would scorn as bubbles
Earthly hopes and fears —
I would smile at troubles
In the coming years —
If thou couldst but seem, love,
Once again to me
All I used to dream, love !
But it cannot be.
75
How sweet were the dreams that we dreamed, old
friend,
Together, when life had but just begun !
How sad are our thoughts now we see the end
Of the vanity practised beneath the sun !
We neither have done what we meant to do —
We have neither become what we hoped to be :
Disappointment has darkened the day for you —
Disillusion has dawned on the world for me.
For one special treasure you vainly sought.
And laughed at the toil that the search entailed :
You worked and you waited, you prayed and fought.
And your heart was broken because you failed.
So now you are bitter and hard and stern.
Regarding the world as your cruel foe :
As you have not the blessing for which you yearn,
You scornfully let all the others go.
?6 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
I also began with a grand ideal,
And waited and wrestled and toiled and prayed ;
Till I found at last the prosaic real
So different from all that my dreams pourtrayed.
Then I ceased from the struggle and strain and
strife,
As the work and the waiting seemed all in vain ;
And I made up my mind to enjoy my life,
Nor heed that the hopes of my youth were slain.
Am I happy ? Yes : I have ceased to pine
For things that I know are beyond my reach :
I have eaten the husks with the herd of swine,
Extracting what pleasure I could from each.
Whilst you have been fretting your heart away
For joys it was fated you should not iind,
I have made myself merry from day to day,
And left all the dreams of the past behind.
Yet I envy you, 'spite of your bitter pain ;
Because — through earth's hubbub, that grates and
jars —
You are listening still to the far-off strain
Which is sung on high by the morning stars.
You never would turn your eyes to the ground
From the heaven-sent vision they once had seen ;
So ready and waiting will you be found
When the angels bring you your "might have
been."
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 77
But as for myself, I have piped so long
The jangling refrains of the market-place,
That now I am deaf to the seraph-song
Which is floating forever through fields of space :
Among Kedar's tents I have dwelt at ease,
Forgetting my home in the mansions blest ;
The worst has had power my soul to please.
So it is not for me to attain the best.
78
€i)t Wlomtn of WRtin^httQ.
(From the German,']
The army of King Conrad, the Hohenstaufen, lay
Before the gates of Weinsberg for many a weary
day:
The citizens were conquer'd, yet their arms they laid
not down,
But still defended to the last their noble native
town.
But hunger overcame them — no more they held their
ground :
In vain they sought for mercy — no mercy then they
found :
Quoth Conrad, " Many soldiers brave have here been
slain by you ;
If once you open wide your gates my swords shall
pierce you through ! "
Vmrses, Wise or Otherwise. 79
The women then petitioned : " If what thou say'st
must be,
Oh ! let us leave the town unharmed, for innocent are
we."
When Conrad heard their pleading cry, his anger died
away.
And in its stead came pity for such helpless fools as
they.
" The women may depart," he said, " and each may
take from here
As much as she can carry of the things she counts
most dear :
As much as she can carry of her treasures she may
steal :
To this King Conrad signs his name and sets his
royal seal."
When the early, early morning was dawning fair and
bright.
The Hohenstaufen's army saw a strange and wondrous
sight :
The city gates were opened wide, and forth from
every street
Came crowds of starving women with slow and
tott'ring feet.
8o Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
But when they saw the burdens the soldiers' brows
were black ;
For each one bore her husband right bravely on her
back.
" Down with their choicest treasures ! " was now the
angry cry —
" These women have outwitted us, and they shall
surely die ! "
But when King Conrad saw them, a loud, loud laugh
laughed he,
"Right well the Weinsberg women have now out-
witted me !
I cannot break my promise, nor alter my command.
For a monarch's word is sacred in the German
Fatherland."
Thus Conrad kept his promise, as the ancient legends
tell:
In the year eleven hundred and forty it befell ;
So in those distant ages men had learnt to under-
stand
That a monarch's word is sacred in the German
Fatherland.
8i
(BolXitn IBaffJotiilg*
The Winter days are o'er,
And hungry little birds no more
Come tamely begging to the door
And on the window-sills ;
Sweet songsters chirp on every spray,
The fields are bright with lambs at play,
And all the sombre woods are gay
With golden daffodils.
They deck the meads with cloth of gold,
They make sweet sunshine o'er the wold ;
They dance with joy and glee untold
To music of the rills ;
They chase away old Winter's frown.
Spring's coming publish up and down,
And Queen proclaim her with a crown
Of golden daffodils.
F
82 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
They are not regal as the rose
Which in my lady's garden grows,
Nor fragrant as the thyme which blows
Upon the sun-kissed hills ;
No daisy's secret can they tell,
Nor cast the poppy's soothing spell ;
But yet, methinks, I love them well —
These golden daffodils.
What though they be not wondrous fair,
Nor boast a beauty past compare,
Nor yield a perfume rich and rare
Which nigh with sweetness kills ?
They bring a smile to earth's worn face.
And make her gladsome with their grace,
E'en though they be but commonplace —
My golden daffodils.
To me each flower a message brings,
That from the smallest, simplest things
A world of joy and pleasure springs,
And hearts with gladness fills.
If we will but remember this —
To value each for what it is.
And not expect too rare a bliss
From golden daffodils.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 83
Still one more lesson do they teach :
Should great things lie beyond our reach,
It falls within the lot of each
Who duty's claim fulfils —
Unhelped by special charm or grace —
To make, for just a little space,
" A sunshine in a shady place,"
Like golden dafifodils.
84
iLent--2LiIies.
Gay Lent-lilies, that are twinkling
Starlike in the springing grass,
How we love to see you sprinkling
All the meadows as we pass !
Gladly ye foretell the story
Of the happy days to come,
With their spell of Summer glory
And their peace of Harvest-home.
Poor Lent-lilies, that are gleaming
In your diadems of dew,
Know ye not that ye are dreaming
Of delights not meant for you ?
Ere the Summer brings her pleasures-
Ere the sombre woods are gay — ■
Ere the Autumn flings her treasures —
Ye will all have passed away.
Vesses, Wise or Otherwise. 85
Sweet Lent-lilies, do not sorrow,
For, perchance, 'tis better so :
Disillusions of the morrow
Ye for ever shall forego.
We in Summer heat may languish,
And by Autumn winds be chilled —
Ye can never know the anguish
Of a cherished hope fulfilled.
Rich Lent-lilies, that are wasting
Gold upon the lonely lea.
Grudge us not our bitter tasting
Of the fatal knowledge-tree.
Summer's sweets may cloy to loathing —
Autumn's wealth its cares may bring ;
Blest are ye, whose fate holds nothing
But the joyful hope of Spring !
86
When did I hear thee call me from life's feast
To walk instead the narrow way of truth ? —
When did I know thee best and heed thee least ? —
Perchance in Youth.
When shall I trace thy teaching to its end,
And find that on my fate's close-written page
The sweetest lines are those that thou hast penned ?-
Perchance in Age.
When shall I cease to miss thee from my side,
To yearn for thee with every passing breath.
To pray for thee at morn and eventide ? —
Perchance in Death.
When shall I meet thee once again to tell
How thou hast been my life's upraising leaven,
To answer to thy questions — " All is well " ? —
Perchance in Heaven.
8;
€1)0X1 antr 5.
Tell me, Sweetheart, can I ever forget thee.
Ever regret I have worshipped thee so,
Ever can cease to rejoice that I met thee.
Met thee and loved thee a long time ago ?
Happy the days that we twain spent together —
Days unforgotten for ever by me ;
Happy in stormy and sunshiny weather
Simply because they were brightened by thee.
Darling, without thee the day is so dreary !
Dreaming of thee is my only delight ;
Sweetheart, without thee the way is so weary —
Starless as cloudland and sunless as night !
Shall I e'er love thee less fondly than now, dear ?
Tell me if e'er my devotion can die ! —
Never until thou shalt cease to be thou, dear,
Never until I no longer am I.
88
9[n Autumn ^owq.
Sweetheart, the Autumn days are dark and dreary,
The wind is wildly wailing o'er the wold ;
The year and I are growing worn and weary,
And all the world is desolate and cold.
It seems not long since thou and I together
Made merry with our mirth the sunny day ;
But thou didst leave me with the Summer weather.
And now art far away, so far away !
The Spring-time will return with all her treasures.
The Summer with her glory and her glow ;
But can they bring the bygone pleasures ? —
I do not know. Sweetheart, I do not know.
Once more the garden may be bright with posies ;
But will they be to me as sweet and gay
As lilies that are dead, and faded roses ? —
I dare not say, Sweetheart, I dare not say.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise, 89
New friends will meet me and will greet me kindly ;
But shall I learn to love them half so well
As thee whom I have loved so long and blindly ? —
I cannot tell, Sweetheart, I cannot tell.
90
We pluck a rose that sweetly blows,
And when its petals frail are shed,
We quickly find another rose
Instead.
We revel in the joys of Spring,
And when its happy hours have sped.
Another year fresh flowers will bring
Instead.
We love a peaceful Summer morn,
And when its dewy charms have fled,
Another rosy day is born
Instead.
But were I parted, dear, from thee,
And down some distant pathway led,
No other friend would do for me
Instead.
V BUSES, Wise or Otherwise. 91
No other voice would sound the same —
No other foot as softly tread —
No music thrill another name
Instead.
I need thee, Love, in peace or strife :
For till Time's latest page be read,
No other smile could light my life
Instead.
And even in that happier place.
Where pain is past and sorrow dead,
I could not love an angel's face
Instead.
92
llohe*s ^orti'om
" Sweetheart," he cried
With joyous pride,
" New hopes I am come to bring ;
With sunny hours
And sweetest flowers
To wake all thy world to Spring ! '
In accents low
She answered, " Go,
'Mongst others to scatter free
Thy gayest wiles.
Thy gladdest smiles —
But keep all thy tears for me."
" Sweetheart," he cried,
" Away I ride ;
And therefore I bid thee take
A curly tress
Which thou shalt bless
And save as my own keepsake I "
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 93
In accents low
She answered, " No ;
I take not a gift from thee :
Let others hold
Thy curls of gold —
But keep the grey hairs for me."
" Sweetheart/' he cried,
" The flowing tide
Of Fortune allures me on,
To breast its wave,
Its storms to brave,
Ere youth with its strength is gone ! '
She answered low,
" The tide shall flow
And carry thy ships to sea :
Let others greet
Thy conquering fleet —
But keep all the wrecks for me."
" Sweetheart," he cried,
" The world is wide.
And morning has just begun ;
With thee all day
I'll work and pray,
From dawn till the set of sun ! "
94 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
In accents low
She answered, " So,
Dear Love, it can never be :
Let others share
Thy morning prayer —
At evensong wait for me."
" Sweetheart," he cried,
" If side by side
We joyfully speed along,
Through toil and strife,
Our psalm of Hfe
Shall echo the angels' song ! "
In accents low
She said, " I trow.
Divinely attuned are we :
With others raise
Thy hymns of praise —
Thy requiems chant with me."
" Sweetheart," he cried,
" With thee for guide
I feel that the world is mine ;
With head and hand
I'll rule the land,
And count all my triumphs thine ! "
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 95
In accents low
She said, " I know
That I thy success shall see :
To others' gain
Give hand and brain —
But keep all thy heart for me."
96
The Summer's story
Has reached its glory,
Fulfilling all the sweet dreams of May ;
The daylight lingers,
With rosy fingers
Defying night on the longest day.
Yet I remember
No dark December
When sunbeams seemed less inclined to stay
Than these which measure
The hours of pleasure
I spend with you on the longest day.
With you beside me
To cheer and guide me,
I feel — whatever the sages say —
That evening shadows
Across the meadows
Come all too soon on the longest day.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 97
If we together
Face sunny weather,
And love each other when skies are grey —
Life's span shall be, dear,
To you and me, dear,
As short and sweet as the longest day.
And, dearest, after
The tears and laughter
Are all forgotten and passed away.
We two for ever.
Where night falls never,
Will spend together the longest day.
98
Why do I count you so dear (you ask)
This old-fashioned jar, which is but the tomb
Of flowers that once in the sun could bask,
And now with their fragrance can make my room
As sweet as the cedar-ceiled halls of Jewry ?
'Tis only a handful of old pot-pourri.
Roses once gathered by vanished hands,
Cowslips that blossomed in bygone Springs,
Lilies that flourished in far-off lands,
Violets sweet with remembered things
And dark as the eyes of an Eastern houri —
All these you will find in my old pot-pourri.
Doomed in the day of their youth to die,
Cruelly soon was their Spring-time done :
Now triumphantly they can defy
Whirlwinds of Winter and Summer's sun.
Time with his changes and Death with his fury
Steal none of the sweetness from old pot-pourri.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 99
Roses are blooming as fresh to-day,
Lilies as fair in my garden grow ;
And you wonder which are the sweeter — they
Or the flowers that withered so long ago ?
If me you appoint as your judge and jury
I will give the verdict for old pot-pourri.
lOO
Do I love you ?
Can I prove you
More than all the world to me ?
So you wonder,
And I ponder
What my true reply must be.
For of you, dear.
There are two, dear :
One — a thing of common delf ;
One — a treasure
Past all measure :
Which — I ask you — is yourself?
None is nearer.
Closer, dearer,
Than (to me) your better part :
I will perish
Ere I cherish
Its companion in my heart.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. ioi
If the delf, love,
Is yourself, love.
And the other fancy-born,
You have grieved me
And deceived me
Till I loathe you in my scorn.
If the real
And ideal
Are in truth the very same,
I adore you,
Kneel before you.
Find life's music in your name.
If I prize you
Or despise you,
I can never tell you true.
Till you show, dear.
And I knoWj dear.
Which of these is really you.
102
^oio as Cfim.
Once upon a time (say folk),
When the roads were in a muddle,
Walter Raleigh laid his cloak
Right across the largest puddle.
Crying, " Madam, now you dare
Rain or mud or dust defy — shod
With your subject's loving care ! "
So the Queen passed over dryshod.
Though his raiment fine was soiled
Raleigh did not mind a feather ;
For his velvet was well spoiled
In defending her shoe-leather.
Gorgeous mantles decorate
Now no more the sons of Adam ;
Puddles do not devastate
Modern roadways of Macadam.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 103
But though garments change their name,
And though forms and fashions alter,
Thoughts and feelings are the same
As they were to good Sir Walter.
So, my dearest, I will strain
All I am and have and swear by,
For the chance that you may gain
Just a moment's pleasure thereby.
I will spoil my robes of state,
Sacrifice my silks and laces.
If they may but separate
Your small shoes from miry places ;
I will strew my best till death
On your path across life's valley :
You — my Queen Elizabeth !
I— your faithful Walter Raleigh 1
I04
91 ^oitfl of Eobfs.
Through branches of their leaves bereft
The sunlight glitters golden :
The moss with velvet clothes each cleft
In ruins grim and olden ;
On falling towers the ivy strong
All signs of wreck effaces ;
The streamlet sings its sweetest song
Across the stony places.
When moonless is the wintry sky
Then brightest is the starlight ;
Beyond the breakers fierce and high
We see the beacon's far light ;
The snowdrop rings its silver bell
When snowdrifts shroud the meadows ;
The winds their sacred secrets tell
Behind the evening shadows.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. ios
And so, sweetheart, when thou art old
And sad and worn and weary,
When all the world is growing cold.
And all the land looks dreary,
My heart will follow then the lead
Of star and moss and river,
And love thee best in greatest need
For ever and for ever.
io6
In Coltrtsst Ofnglantr*
In General Booth's great treatise on the gloom
Which English people plunge their submerged
sinners in,
He says the Poor should have a nice warm room
To eat their dinners in.
Oh, that another prophet would appear
Who — with a duly philanthropic flourish — meant
To grant the Wealthy a mild atmosphere
For taking nourishment !
For at the merry-makings of the Rich
(As half their martyred visitors can verify) —
They are exposed to winds of Heaven, which
The strongest terrify.
Through open windows round the festive board
Catarrh and Influenza ride victorious,
While, louder than at sea he ever roared.
Sings rude old Boreas.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 107
The Poor inclement weather cannot bear
Because their scanty clothes are worn to filaments ;
But, at their revellings, the Wealthy wear
As slight habiliments.
Oh, that a modern prophet might arise.
Who — having warmed and cared for the Demo-
cracy —
Would strive to shelter from the stormy skies
The Aristocracy :
Who — like a true-born hero — would not mind
A fashionable charge of incivility,
If only he could come " betwixt the wind
And their nobility " !
io8
Simons t6e Eosiesf*
Long ago in Love's old garden,
Where no frosts the dew-drops harden
And the South wind ever blows,
Two brave Knights of kingly bearing
Set their hearts upon the wearing
Both of one especial Rose.
Quoth the first Knight, " Rose of roses.
You are Queen of all the posies
That this garden-plot adorn :
I should die of your rejection,
For in you I find perfection,
Lovely Rose without a thorn 1 "
Quoth the second Knight, " Sweet flower.
Let me take you to my bower.
For I love you, thorns and all :
From your briars I would remove you.
And would train you and improve you.
If to me your charms should fall ! "
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 109
Then the Rose addressed the Second
(As the First she hardly reckoned
Worthy of a wise reply) :
" Much, Sir Knight, you have to proffer,
And I must regard your offer
As a compliment most high :
" I should be — with you beside me
To correct and guard and guide me —
Quite the rarest flower that grows.
You shall have the Rose's blessing,
All her grateful thanks expressing ;
And your friend shall have — the Rose."
no
Oh ! I was so young and he was so old
When we met in the spring of a bygone year ;
And he seemed so stately and stern and cold
That he filled my soul with a childish fear.
But I learned to know him so well, so well —
Far better than any I'd ever known ;
So much to me then did he deign to tell
That his inmost secrets became my own.
So I set to work for his only sake,
And found he was always to me the same :
I was careless and crude, yet he never spake
One word of reproof or of scorn or blame.
The charms of the world were beneath his ken,
And he cared not a tittle for sordid pelf ;
But he taught me to study my fellow-men.
And (which was still better) to know myself.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. hi
Forsaken he stood by the rushing stream
Of life, with its eddies of joy and pain ;
For his day was done, and he did not dream
He could ever be sorry or glad again.
But to me he opened fresh fields of thought,
Regaling my spirit from wisdom's store ;
Surprising and strange were the truths he taught.
Undreamed of, unguessed at, by me before.
We have parted, but still I am glad we met :
He has passed away far out of my reach ;
But never — no never — can I forget
The wonderful lessons he used to teach.
Never a sigh did he squander on me,
Nor stoop to take note of my girlish whim ;
Yet all my life through shall I surely be
Wiser and better for meeting with him.
Much did he teach me — so came it to pass
Gratefully now I remember it all :
/ was a girl at an " Ambulance Class " —
He was a skeleton hung on the wall.
112
9in (S^it of ^taffortrsijire*
The invading Danish foe near a thousand years ago
Travelled hither from the strand :
And it fell upon a day that his armies came this way
To our pleasant Mercian land.
They had wandered from the coast with their savage
pirate host,
Leaving ruin in their track ;
And all bloodstained was the sod in the footsteps
they had trod,
And the turf was burnt and black.
Ethelflaed, the Mercian Queen, brought an army on
the scene
To defend her native plain ;
While King Edward, named the Elder, with his
English hosts upheld her
In her fight against the Dane.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 113
On the Danish foemen came, bringing poverty and
shame
And destruction in their path ;
And each honest-hearted Saxon by his beard so fair
and flaxen
Swore to slay them in his wrath.
So the Saxons came to meet them and right royally
to greet them
As they hurried on apace :
At Theotenhall they found them with their Swedish
hordes around them,
And defied them face to face.
They defied them face to face in that fearful
trysting place.
And they fought them hand to hand ;
While the Saxon Edward quoth, " I have sworn a
mighty oath
To deliver this my land ! "
Swift as thought the arrows flashed, sure as death
the axes crashed.
Straight and sharp the spears were thrust ;
As the maddened chargers neighed, and the clashing
armies swayed
To and fro amid the dust.
H
114 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
And the morning sun shone white on the glory of
the fight
When the battle was begun ;
And the evening sun shone red on the faces of
the dead
When that dreadful day was done.
For the air was dark with slaughter, and the life-blood
ran like water
As the Danes were brought to bay ;
And they changed that sunlit meadow to a valley of
the shadow
With the fury of their fray.
And the fight was grim and great, and the hour was
dark and late.
Ere the day was won and lost ;
But the Saxons gained the battle, and above the
deafening rattle
Were proclaimed the conquering host.
They pursued the vanquished Danes o'er the ravaged
Mercian plains
During forty days and more ;
Till the foe was forced to flee to the countries near
the sea,
And the lands beside the shore.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 115
And the slain were gently laid in the oak-trees'
peaceful shade
To their long, unbroken rest :
Friend and foe they sleep together, through serene
and stormy weather.
On the green earth's quiet breast.
They had sworn with latest breath they would
struggle to the death
Or their foes should be their slaves :
Now they lie with upturned faces, and no curses
stir the daisies
That are growing on their graves.
As they slumber they may dream that things are not
what they seem
On this little earth of ours,
For life's problems are made plain to the weary who
have lain
Fast asleep beneath the flowers.
And perchance they understand in that silent shadow-
land.
As they never did before,
That renown was but a bubble and success but toil
and trouble
In the fighting days of yore.
ii6 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
As in manhood's golden day we look back on childish
play
With a half-disdainful smile,
So these wiser spirits wonder that they rent the world
asunder,
And believed it worth their while.
Once again it came to pass that the Danes returned,
alas !
To the sunny Mercian land ;
And their track with blood was red, and their path
was strewn with dead.
As they journeyed from the strand.
Then the Saxons met the Danes in the pleasant
Mercian plains,
And they swore the Danes should yield ;
So they smote them hip and thigh till they made
them fall or fly
At the fight of Wodensfield.
And the sunlight gleamed like gold on the armour of
the bold
At the dawning of the day ;
And the night-clouds hung like lead o'er the armies
of the dead
At the ending of the fray.
Vbrses, Wise or Otherwise. 117
For the Saxons showed no quarter, and the air was
dark with slaughter,
And the fight was grim and great ;
And three Kings to death were done ere the setting
of the sun
On that fearful field of fate.
Then the English conquerors hied to Winehalla in
the pride
Of the victory they had won ;
Where they feasted late and long as with revelry and
song
They proclaimed what they had done.
All their poets told the story of the hard-won Saxon
glory,
And the conquest of the foe ;
While the weary warriors rested and the sweets of
triumph tested,
Near a thousand years ago.
There is little difference now 'twixt the laurel-circled
brow
And the fallen in the fight :
'Tis among the things of old, like the tales that have
been told
Or the watches of the night.
ii8 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
For the victors from their gladness and the vanquished
from their madness
Were alike compelled to cease,
When Death called them to their reckoning, and, his
ghostly finger beckoning.
Bade them pass away in peace.
-They were mighty men and brave, and they earned a
soldier's grave,
Having nobly served their day ;
Yet each servant meek and lowly in the kingdom of
the holy
Shall be greater far than they :
For the man that takes a city, undeterred by pain
and pity.
Like a lion's whelp may be ;
But the man that rules his spirit shall be held of
higher merit
And of truer worth than he.
Now their rage and hate are over as they lie beneath
the clover.
And they fret and fume no more :
Danish sailors, Saxon sages, in the silence of the
ages
Never hear the sound of war.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 119
For their rest is long and sweet, and they feel nor
cold nor heat.
But are calm and unafraid ;
While the daffodilly waves o'er the old, forgotten
graves.
Where they slumber in the shade.
There they patiently must lie while the sunny days
pass by,
And the stars their vigils keep.
Till the angel-sounded warning of the Resurrectioti-
morning
Shall awake them out of sleep.
Still their spirits haunt the shadows of the oak-trees
in the meadows
Where their knell the bluebell tolls •
And we humbly pray that Heaven, Whereby sinners
are forgiven.
May have mercy on their souls !
120
An angel, of those that excel in strength,
Looked down from above on the breadth and length
Of the ways of men, and he heard the cry
They raise from a world that is all awry :
" Oh, if we were happy, or rich, or great.
We would serve God well in our high estate ;
But blank disappointment and black despair
Are burdens too heavy for us to bear ! "
And the angel exclaimed, " It is hard on these
That they cannot serve God in the way they please !
If I straightened their crooked and smoothed their
rough,
The children of men would be righteous enough."
Then he prayed, " If I might for this once aspire
To give to each creature its heart's desire,
That creature would come of its own accord
With joy and thanksgiving to serve the Lord ! "
His petition was borne up the altar stairs
(As is always the way with unselfish prayers),
Vesses, Wise or Otherwise. 121
And permission was granted to prove the worth,
Undeveloped as yet in the sons of earth.
In a hopeful transport the angel flew
Down the pathless waste of ethereal blue,
Till he stood by the side of a toil-worn boy.
Whose soul was an-hungered for human joy.
" If only his heart could be gay and glad,"
Quoth the seraph, "it all would be well with the
lad;
But the iron footsteps of want and woe
Have trampled upon him and crushed him so
That the visions perceived by his inward sight
Are doomed to be dead ere they come to the light."
So the messenger opened the tear-filled eyes
To the beauty of life ; and in sweet surprise
The poet gave voice to his fondest dreams.
And chanted his paeans by Babylon's streams.
And he piped and sang with such wonderful grace
To the children who played in the market-place.
That their hearts grew tender, their eyes grew dim.
And the whole of the world went after him.
But the poet's soul was so finely made
That it languished in sunshine and longed for shade :
In the pitiless glare of the garish day
It shrank and shrivelled and faded away.
So the poet bartered his soul for fame,
And the round earth rang with the sound of his name;
But he learnt too late, when he counted the cost,
That the world was gained and his soul was lost.
122 Verses, Wise ok Otherwise.
Then the angel noticed a starving man
Who pondered and prayed o'er a perfect plan
For helping his fellows, but always failed
Because of the outlay his schemes entailed.
And the angel cried, " It is sad indeed
His designs should be stopped by the stress of his
need !
With wealth to help him and patience to wait.
This man and his money might conquer Fate."
Then the man, who had once been a failure, rose
To heights unimagined by friends or foes.
And waited and worked with his might and main,
Till he garnered a harvest of golden grain.
And the seraph smiled, " He will quickly fulfil
His hopes of assuaging all human ill ;
And will make, by the means he can now employ.
The widow and orphan to sing for joy."
But the man, who had grown what the world calls rich.
Despised the old days when he lay in the ditch
Devising a plan for the good of his kind :
Such follies were left with his rags behind.
So he hoarded his money, and quite forgot
The dreams that he dreamed when he had it not.
A pauper, he argued, perchance might love
To lay up for pastime a treasure above ;
But the wealthy had plenty to do, for sure,
Without wasting their substance on God and the poor.
Then the angel took heed to a woman's cry ;
" Give me love in my life, or, alas ! I die :
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 123
For in spite of my beauty and rank and wit,
I grow selfish and hard for the lack of it."
So the seraph put into her hands a heart
Wherein none other woman had lot or part —
The heart of a man to be all her own,
To melt into softness or freeze into stone.
And the woman — being given a thing to use,
The anguish whereof had the power to amuse —
Began pricking^her plaything and probing its pain,
Till it broke in her clutch beyond mending again.
Then she wondered whatever the harm could be.
Or who had the right to reprove her, if she
Into dust and destruction disdainfully trod
The heart of a man in the image of God.
But she sorrowed a season (as women will
When their empty existence seems hard to fill).
And prayed to be given, for pity's sake,
A similar beautiful toy to break ;
For the days were long and the hours like lead
Without something to play with, the woman said.
The angel of light, who excelled in strength.
Looked down in dismay on the breadth and length
Of the ways of men ; and he sadly sighed,
" A failure indeed was the course I tried !
Not glorious summers nor cloudless morns
Can grow figs on thistles or grapes on thorns :
'Tis not talents withheld from his lifetime's plan
But the thoughts of his heart that defile a man.
The mean and the selfish would prove the same
124 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Under blessing or ban ; but they lay the blame
On their lowly position or lack of parts,
And not where 'tis due, on the sin of their hearts."
Then he wept as he whispered, " If this be so,
And the heart of the citadel hold the foe —
If the cleanness of cup and of platter hide
The loathsome corruption that lurks inside —
If the roots of the tree are but rottenness — then
What help can be found for the children of men ? "
And from out of the silence an answer came,
" All things can be done through the might of My
Name!
The hills shall be moved, and the seas made dry,
And the camel shall pass through the needle's eye ;
For the plans untried and the paths untrod
By saints and by angels are known to God."
125
"(golU anlr ffmnkmemt anti ilprrij/*
One Christmas-day in long-forgotten years
A beggar wept exceeding bitter tears ;
For, whilst the thronging people went their way
To God's own house to keep His holy day,
To deck with offerings meet the Saviour's shrine,
And praise with carols sweet the Babe divine.
So poor was he, he could not e'en afford
The humblest gift wherewith to greet his Lord.
As, sad at heart, the weary beggar wept,
It chanced he fell asleep, and whilst he slept
He dreamed there passed before his tear-dimmed
eyes
Three men in strange and Oriental guise.
Who — guided by a bright and wondrous star —
Had left their Eastern home and travelled far,
And still were pressing onwards night and day
To reach the manger where the Saviour lay.
126 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
The first — a stately man of noble mien,
With wise and thoughtful eye and brow serene —
Addressed the sleeper thus : " Pure gold I bring
To sacrifice before the new-born King."
Then spake the second, who was young and fair :
" A costly gift of frankincense I bear,
Distilled from all the sweetest things on earth.
And therefore meet to grace a Monarch's birth."
The third — a weary traveller, worn and old —
Sighed : " I have neither frankincense nor gold ;
To me life brings the bitter, not the sweet.
And poor indeed I go my King to meet ;
I ne'er have found pure gold without alloy,
Nor yet the frankincense of love and joy ;
Still all I have I give Him, and believe
That e'en the bitter myrrh He will receive."
An angel's voice made answer : " Blest are they
Who dedicate their gold to God, and pray
That He thereof will fashion crowns of light
To wreathe their brows who well have fought the
Twice blest are they who bring the costly spice
Of life's most precious gifts as sacrifice ;
For all such incense burnt before the Lord
One day a thousandfold shall be restored.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 127
Thrice blest are they who — having nought at all
To offer save the wormwood and the gall —
Lay down their sorrows at their Saviour's feet j
For He shall change their bitter into sweet.
His loving hand shall wipe away their tears,
His gracious smile dispel their doubts and fears ;
Eternal joy shall turn their night to day,
Whilst grief and sighing swiftly flee away."
The beggar wept for joy : " Ah ! now I learn,"
He cried, " that even I may come in turn
To lay my gift before the new-born King,
Whose praises all the host of Heaven sing.
Some give Him costly gold, and some prefer
Sweet frankincense — I nought can bring but myrrh ;
Yet God my offering will not worthless deem."
The beggar woke — and lo ! it was a dream.
128
One Christmas — as over the snow-drifts deep the
silvery starlight streamed —
A poor old shepherd was lying asleep, and this is the
dream he dreamed ;
He thought that he heard the angel of old that
glorious carol sing —
" Fear not ; for behold ! there is born this day a Babe
Which is Christ the King."
So he started to seek the new-born Christ, on hearing
the angel's song,
And never fainted nor faltered nor failed, though
weary the way and long ;
Till he came to a beautiful city, so wondrously fair to
see.
That " Here," cried the shepherd in joyful hope, " the
Heavenly Babe must be ! "
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 129
Then he tried to pass through the gates of brass, but
there was his progress barred,
For in front of the closely-shut portals the sentinels
stood on guard :
" Go home, thou shepherd, go home," they cried ; " of
a truth, thou canst surely see
Here is room for the proud and princely, but here is
no place for thee ! "
Then it came to pass that the wayworn man a palace
of learning found,
Where walls of marble and pillars of gold rose up from
the mossy ground
To shield from the great world's struggle and strife
the gifted, the learned, the wise ;
And the shepherd exclaimed, " 'Tis here, methinks,
that the wonderful Christ-Child lies ! "
But never a word of welcome kind did the scholarly
scorners deign
To give to the weary old wanderer, ere they turned to
their books again :
" Go home, thou shepherd, go home," they said ; " from
our presence make haste to flee ;
Here is room for the wise and the worthy, but here is
no place for thee ! "
I
130 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
The shepherd sadly pursued his way till he came to a
temple fair,
Where priests in their vesture of purple hue were lift-
ing their hearts in prayer —
Where choirs in their garments of snowy white were
raising their songs in praise :
" Ah, here is the spot," was the traveller's cry, " where
I on my Lord may gaze."
But he dare not enter that sacred fane, so gaunt did
he feel and grim.
And the beautiful white-robed choristers had never a
song for him ;
He sighed to himself, " In this temple fair, O shepherd,
thou mayst not be —
Here is room for the pure and the perfect, but here is
no place for thee ! "
Then on he went till at last he felt he could travel
along no more ;
And feeble and footsore and faint at heart he entered
a stable door ;
Though the great and the good and the gifted would
scorn such a humble guest,
Yet there with the beasts of burden, perchance, the
shepherd might take his rest.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 131
And lo ! where the vilest might freely come, and no
man durst say them nay,
In the stable, asleep in a manger, the glorious Christ-
Child lay ;
"O welcome, thou shepherd," the angels sang ; "fall
low on thy bended knee —
Here is room for the sad and the sinful, so here is
the place for thee ! "
132
Cfte Hermit.
Safe in the shelter of a lonely glen —
A refuge which the distant hum of men
Could reach but faintly —
Untouched by human blame or human praise,
There dwelt in ancient, half-forgotten days
A hermit saintly.
With rapture was his spirit wont to burn ;
Each night of prayer was followed in its turn
By prayerful morrows ;
He heeded not in his exalted life
The sordid cares of men, their paltry strife,
Their sins and sorrows.
As he one Christmas Eve his vigil kept,
Whilst Nature 'neath her snowy mantle slept.
He saw with wonder
An angel standing smiling by his side.
Whilst Heaven to hosts seraphic opened wide
Its gates of thunder.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 133
In silent awe the hermit bowed his head :
" Fear not, my son," the angel sweetly said
In accents ringing ;
" Our Christmas carol strive to learn by heart,
And see if thou art fit to take thy part
In Heaven's singing."
" Glory to God ! " bright hosts of seraphs sang ;
" Glory to God ! " the highest Heavens rang ;
" To God be glory ! "
" O angel ! " cried the hermit, growing bold,
" This can I sing, for all my life has told
The self-same story."
The angel smiled : " And art thou then as fain
To sing the second part of Heaven's strain .' "
In tones sonorous
The white-robed carol-singers chanted then,
" Peace upon earth, and goodwill unto men ! "
So ran the chorus.
In tearful shame the hermit bowed his head :
" I cannot learn the angels' song," he said,
" Nor sing it duly ;
To God great glory I have ever given ;
But yet to save men's souls I have not striven,
Nor loved them truly."
134 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
The angel answered gently, " Grieve not so !
Two things compose man's duty here below —
Thou hast the one done ;
In this thou hast not been of grace bereft,
Yet none the less thou shouldst not then have left
The other undone.
" Be comforted ! it is not yet too late ;
Ne'er closed to those who knock is Heaven's gate.
Now do thy duty —
Love well thy fellow-creatures, and ere long
Thine own shall be the sweet seraphic song
In all its beauty."
The hermit straightway left his lonely glen.
And lived and worked amongst his fellow-men
As holy leaven !
At last — the carol learnt — he ceased to roam,
And then the angels bore him safely home
To sing in Heaven.
I3S
%o$& nnti 6am»
I SORROWED that the golden day was dead,
Its light no more the country side adorning ;
But whilst I grieved, behold ! — the East grew red
With morning.
I sighed that merry Spring was forced to go,
And doff the wreaths that did so well become
her;
But whilst I murmured at her absence, lo ! —
'Twas Summer.
I mourned because the daffodils were killed
By burning skies that scorched my early posies ;
But whilst for these I pined, my hands were filled
With roses.
Half broken-hearted I bewailed the end
Of friendships than which none had once seemed
nearer ;
But whilst I wept I found a newer friend,
And dearer.
136 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
And thus I learned old pleasures are estranged
Only that something better may be given ;
Until at last we find this earth exchanged
For Heaven.
137
One sunny day, as on my way I went,
And stooped to pluck the flowers I loved so well,
I saw that on each bloom o'er which I bent,
My shadow fell ;
But when my wandering glances left the ground
And travelled sunwards up the shafts of light,
The shadow fell behind me, and I found
That all was bright.
So when, with earthward gaze, we set our minds
On flowers beside life's pathway blooming fair,
Whoever stoops to seize their beauties finds
A shadow there ;
But if, with eyes uplifted, we are wont
To scan the heavenward stair the angels trod,
Behind us is the shadow, and in front
The light of God.
138
The branch by wind is stirred,
And yet thereon the bird
His carol sings ;
What though the tree be tall ? —
He feels he cannot fall
For he has wings.
I find no place of rest ;
Yet I am not opprest
By earthly things ;
Nought is abiding here,
But wherefore should I fear ? —
I too have wings.
139
To know through all Earth's changes that Life must
conquer Death —
Which is perfect Faith :
To trust that we are gaining those joys for which we
grope—
Which is steadfast Hope :
To love our fellow creatures as we beloved would
be—
Which is Charity :
To have these three abiding our daily lives to bless —
Which is Happiness.
140
purple anir (Bol'a,
The golden corn and the purple heather
In royal state did the land enfold ;
And the children laughed in the sunny weather,
And clapped their hands at the purple and gold.
One short month passed, and brought with it the
sadness
Of Autumn winds and of Autumn rain,
And though still the children laughed in their glad-
ness,
They looked for the purple and gold in vain,
I wondered whether their hearts were tender
And sad that such beauty had passed away.
So I asked them what had become of the splendour
That crowned the country the other day.
They smiled at my ignorance all unaided,
And told me a secret I ought to know —
How the purple and gold were not lost nor faded,
But every year were obliged to go.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 141
For the purple and gold of the Summers olden
Were used to build, as the angels list,
A city on high, where the streets are golden,
And the walls are glowing with amethyst.
As I heard the children's quaint little story,
Methought that it brought a message to all,
For we all are sighing for faded glory,
And longing for pleasures beyond recall.
But the children should teach us to cease our sighing,
And let our lives with fresh hopes be crowned ;
There are no such things as losing and dying,
For the dead are alive, and the lost are found.
The joys that we mourn in such deep dejection
Were carried away by an angel hand.
To make more fair in their full perfection.
Our mansions prepared in the far-off land.
We shall find them again, all those treasures olden —
Not one shall be wanting, not one be missed —
In a city on high, where the streets are golden.
And the walls are glowing with amethyst.
142
The trailing ivy on the earth is found,
And closely to its humble home it clings,
Nor by itself can ever leave the ground
From whence it springs.
Its feeble efforts are all vainly made
From earth and earth's to set its tendrils free,
Until it finds a home beneath the shade
Of some great tree.
The ivy's branches round the trunk are thrown —
And then at last its lower life is o'er ;
'Tis upwards raised to better things, unknown.
Undreamed before.
The old earth-loving days are gone and past —
A new and higher life is now begun ;
The trailing ivy wends its way at last
Towards stars and sun.
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 143
So we to earth must cling until we find
Our rest beneath the shadow of that Tree
Which once was lifted up for all mankind
On Calvary.
We fling our arms around it, and at length
Among the sons of Heaven take our place,
And by the Cross are raised from strength to strength
From grace to grace.
It leads us upwards, far beyond the sway
Of earthly cares, beyond the toil and strife ;
In it we find a new and living Way —
The Tree of Life.
It lifts us out of darkness into light —
The light that shines, undimmed by cloud or mist,
In that Eternal City, gleaming bright
As amethyst.
Where conquering hosts beside the Crystal Sea
With swelling songs their victories recall.
And He, Who died for us upon the Tree,
Is all in all.
144
The weaver weaves with many a colour,
And some are dark and some are gay ;
But while the seamy side grows duller
The pattern brightens day by day.
We learn, as we perceive him taking
The different threads diversely dyed,
Designs the darkest in the making
Are brightest on the other side.
The web of life with threads is furnished
Which trace a picture in the loom ;
And some like gold are brightly burnished,
And some are deeply tinged with gloom.
Through chance and change we pass believing
That, whatsoever ills betide.
The pattern darkest in the weaving
Is brightest on the Other Side.
145
Darling, my daytime has ended its story,
Shadows of evening fall dark on my brow ;
Bright was the flush of its morningtide glory,
Sweet is the peace that is closing it now.
Still the lark's hymn to the sunrise thou hearest.
Still thou canst brush the fresh dew from the lawn :
Which dost thou think is the happier, dearest,
I in the sunset or thou in the dawn ?
Darling, I look for a fairer to-morrow.
So do not pity but bid me good-night :
Thou hast to walk through the valley of sorrow,
I have to soar to the City of Light.
When thou art drinking the cup that thou fearest,
When I have seen the dark curtain withdrawn,
Which dost thou think will be happier, dearest.
Thou in the sunset or I in the dawn ?
146
When the world to thee is new,
When its dazzling dreams deceive thee,
Ere they pass like morning dew —
Faith retrieve thee !
When the glory fades away,
When of light the clouds bereave thee.
When the shadows mar the day —
Hope relieve thee !
When despair's destroying breath
Comes at eventide to grieve thee
With the bitterness of death —
Love reprieve thee !
When the bells at Curfew toll,
When the lingering sunbeams leave thee,
When the night o'erwhelms thy soul —
God receive thee !
147
pictures: anb Sautters!*
A PAINTER, standing on a scaffold high,
Stepped back to wonder how a passing stranger
Would scan his art : a workman, who stood by
And saw his danger,
Bedaubed the finished fresco. With a start
The artist forward rushed in consternation ;
And thus the spoiling of his work of art
Was his salvation.
Oh ! ye, who pleasant pictures love to paint —
Then find your day-dreams doomed to disappoint-
ment —
Take for the soothing of your sad complaint
This healing ointment :
That Love withholds the triumph of your toils.
Bids Fancy's frescoes fainter fade and fainter,
And with a gracious Hand the picture spoils
To save the painter.
148
Now the year is crowned with blessing
As we gather in the grain ;
And, our grateful thanks expressing,
Loud we raise a joyous strain :
Bygone days of toil and sadness
Cannot now our peace destroy.
For the hills are clothed with gladness,
And the valleys shout for joy.
To the Lord their first-fruits bringing,
All His thankful people come,
To the Father praises singing
For the joy of Harvest-Home.
In the Spring the smiling meadows
Donned their robes of living green,
As the sunshine chased the shadows
Swiftly o'er the changing scene ;
Verses, Wise or Qtherwise. 149
In the Summer-time the story
Of a riper hope was told ;
Then the rich Autumnal glory
Decked the fields in cloth of gold.
To the Lord their first-fruits bringing,
All His faithful people come,
To the Father praises singing
For the joy of Harvest-Home.
Shall not we, whose hearts are swelling
With the thought of former days,
Sing a joyous song foretelling
Future gladness, fuller praise ?
For the cloud the bow retaineth
With its covenant of peace.
That, as long as earth remaineth,
Harvest-time shall never cease.
To the Lord their first-fruits bringing,
All His faithful people come.
To the Father praises singing
For the joy of Harvest-Home.
Though the fig-tree may not flourish,
Though the vine no fruit may yield,
Though the earth no flocks may nourish
In the fold or in the field,
ISO Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
Still our hearts will trust His Power
Who the ravens stoops to feed,
And the Hand that clothes each flower
Shall supply our utmost need.
To the Lord their first-fruits bringing,
All His faithful people come,
To the Father praises singing
For the joys of Harvest- Home.
iSi
Father everliving,
We declared Thy Name
When, with glad thanksgiving,
To Thy courts we came ;
For Thy gifts to mortals
Still our songs we raise,
As we pass Thy portals
With a hymn of praise !
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord,
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
For our own creation
By Thy mighty Will ;
For our preservation
From surrounding ill ;
152 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
For Thy Word, expressing
Peace amid the strife ;
And for every blessing
Of our earthly life —
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord,
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
For the dewy meadows,
In their glory drest ;
For the evening shadows.
Bringing thoughts of rest ;
For this world of beauty ;
For the days of youth ;
For the path of duty,
And the way of truth —
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord,
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
For the faith which brightens
Darkness of despair ;
For the hope which lightens
Burdens hard to bear ;
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 153
For the love which fails not,
Nor can fade away ;
For the light which pales not
Till the perfect day —
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord,
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
For the wondrous story
Of the blessed Cross ;
For the hope of glory
After grief and loss ;
For the One Oblation
Of Thine Only Son ;
For the world's salvation
Which by death He won —
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord.
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
For each faithful servant,
Who — while tarrying here —
With pure heart and fervent
Served the Lord in fear ;
154 Verses, Wise or Otherwise.
For the hosts victorious
Who have fought the fight —
Who, serene and glorious,
Walk with Christ in white —
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord,
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
These, Thy mercies tender.
Teach us. Lord, to see,
That we may surrender
Lips and lives to Thee ;
To Thy service giving
All that we are worth —
To Thy glory living
All our days on earth.
Father, we adore Thee,
And, with one accord,
Praise Thy Name before Thee
In Thy Temple, Lord !
SONNETS.
157
SONNETS,
Outside thy heart there is a garden plot
Where thunders never blare nor tempests blow —
Where I may wander idly to and fro,
Secure and sheltered in that stormless spot.
Within thy heart are battles fierce and hot,
And founts of bitterness and floods of woe ;
But there thou sternly bidst me ne'er to go,
Nor give a thought to griefs that touch me not.
Whilst I .' I loathe my pleasant, peaceful place ;
And vainly strive the iron gates to burst.
Which screen from me thy secret strifes and scars ;
Chilled by the coldness of thy courtly grace,
Shut out alike from both thy best and worst,
I break my bleeding heart against the bars.
158
Thou sittest in my spirit's banquet-hall
And takest freely of my corn and wine ;
For pleasant ways and paths of peace are thine,
While joy and gladness follow at thy call.
Thou dost not penetrate my prison wall,
Where hopes condemned to death in darkness pine ;
Nor dost thou bow before mine inmost shrine,
Which sanctifies the wormwood and the gall.
Thou hast no fellowship with them that mourn ;
So thou wilt leave it to some stranger-hand
To sound my depths and scale my heights with
me:
And some day, in the comfort which is born
Of souls that throughly know and understand,
I shall forget thy thoughtless ways — and thee.
159
One day it happened that I opened wide
The gate which guards the inmost heart of me ;
And showed my spirit's treasure-house to thee,
And prayed thee in its precincts to abide.
Whereto thy much-encumbered soul replied,
" Until a more convenient time let be ! "
Then shut the portal somewhat hastily :
Thou hadst so many things to do beside.
But leisure seasons find thee free to fling
Thy cares aside, and lazily demand
An easy entrance through the long-locked door.
Fool, not to know it opened with a spring,
Which snapt and broke beneath thy clumsy hand ;
And now, alas ! is closed for evermore !
i6o
Since I have found some favour in thine eyes,
It matters nothing what the others say :
If thou art pleased to praise me, who are they
That should presume to flatter or despise ?
As some proud monarch dons a plain disguise
To hide the princely state of his array,
Then scorns the scorn he meets upon his way,
Full conscious of the rank that underlies ;
So I go forward with a fine disdain
Among my fellows, taking little heed
Of what their comments on my life may be :
Apart from these I hold my right to reign.
And count myself a very queen indeed,
Because I know thou thinkest well of me.
i6i
Dost thou know, Dearest, that the Summer sun
When thou art gone is robbed of half its gold.
While Spring becomes a tale too often told.
And Youth a cheerless game for only one ?
Yet when life's Winter-solstice has begun
I shall not quail before its frost and cold,
Nor tremble at the thought of growing old,
If thou art near me ere my day is done.
And even in that better, brighter place.
Where angels in triumphant chorus sing
Ascending the eternal Altar-stairs,
My soul will seek thee through the fields of space,
Nor deem the seraphs' song a perfect thing
Until I hear thy voice attuned to theirs.
K
1 62
I LOOKED at life with all-unseeing eyes,
Unable to discern the deeper thing
Or dive below the surface to the spring,
Until thou earnest as a glad surprise.
And now to me the smallest bird that flies
Twitters a song which seraphim might sing ;
While roadside flowers a sacred message bring,
And teach those truths that make the angels wise.
I cannot tell thee how thy passing touch
Had power the underlying thought to show
Till all the world was changed because of thee :
Nor do I care to measure overmuch
The why and wherefore : this one thing I know.
That I, who once was blind, now clearly see.
i63
I DREAMED I stood before a fast-locked door,
Which nought could open save a magic word ;
Yet I demanded entrance undeterred,
As he who murmured Sesame of yore.
The grim-eyed porter cried, " Nor less nor more
Than one word only, whence may be inferred
The sweetest music ear hath ever heard —
The richest blessing life may have in store :
One word wherein lies hidden all the bliss
Thou canst conceive or crave beneath the sun.
Dearer than wealth and fairer far than fame.
Fool, wilt thou find one word expressing this ? "
Whereat I smiling said, " The thing is done ! "
Then softly whispered in his ear — thy name.
164
I CARVED thy name, my friend, upon a tree —
An old oak tree o'ershadowing us twain.
As we were wandering down a grassy lane
One day when thou wert all the world to me.
And now once more the ancient oak I see ;
But when I seek the carven sign again
I only find a scar against the grain
Where that dear word of old was wont to be.
So on my heart I carved thy name of yore,
Before I learned how false thy friendships are,
Or dreamed that thou wert less sincere than I
Now on my heart I find thy name no more,
But where 'twas wont to be a cruel scar —
A scar that I shall carry till I die.:
i65
(Bn a picture of tf)t 6ranti Canal, TcTeniw.
The joy of a Venetian holiday-
Glows on the canvas like a gleam of Spring :
Each princely palace seems a perfect thing
Enshrining only what is glad and gay.
'Tis Venice in her festival array ;
And nothing in the picture serves to bring
Suggestions of the shade her prisons fling
Where ducal halls to dungeons pave the way.
So, likewise, would I let no prying eyes
Pierce my heart's palaces of ivory.
And on the secrets of its prison gaze.
The haunting shadows of its Bridge of Sighs
Are best forgotten : therefore think of me
As I appear on happy holidays.
1 66
**2!2abett tf)t WiovUi toasi ©oung.**
{On a picture by Sir Edward Poynter, P.R.A.)
Two girls in robes of amethystine hue
Play on the pavement with the knuckle-bones ;
A third sleeps sweetly on the carven stones
Against the mountains' everlasting blue :
A bath as clear and cool as morning dew
The faintly tinted marble softly tones.
Youth, Dawn, and Spring were seated on their
thrones
And reigned triumphant when the world was new.
Our jaded eyes are rested by the peace
Which fills the court ; and, envying, gaze across
The shadow that the centuries have flung,
At that fair time ere gladness had to cease
To make more room for pain and toil and loss —
That happy morning when the world was
young.
167
I SAID, " My pathway through a garden lies,
Where pleasant fruits abound and spices rare ;
Where pilgrims feed among the lilies fair,
And palm-trees flourish under sunny skies."
I sighed, " A desert spreads before mine eyes —
A land of desolation and despair,
Where deadly dragons darken all the air
With shadows of the doom that never dies."
And lo ! the garden, that so perfect seemed,
Proved but a painted paradise of fools
Where foulest worm in fairest fruit was found :
The desert, that so dreadful I had deemed,
Bloomed like a Summer rose ; rain filled the pools,
And water-springs refreshed the thirsty ground.
1 68
I DREAMED I dwelt with gaiety and glee
In airy castles fashioned for delight ;
Where song and beauty charmed my sense and sight
And love pourtrayed how perfect life could be.
I dreamed I drifted on a shoreless sea
Beneath the shadows of a starless night,
To watery wastes where waves displayed their might,
And yawning whirlpools gaped their mouths on me.
But when the daylight dawned it mattered not
If gates of ivory or gates of horn
Had made me sad or merry whilst I slept :
So when Life's present dream is all forgot
And we have wakened to a fairer morn,
'Twill matter little if we laughed or wept.
i6g
(Bn tf)t Movt,
A BROKEN boat is lying on the shore,
The butt of breakers in their ebb and flow,
TeUing meanwhile a bitter tale of woe
Of those whose travels are for ever o'er.
We know but little of the freight she bore ;
But from her fashion and her form we know
She came from Norway many moons ago.
But shall return to Norway nevermore.
Ye hardy Norsemen, who were lost at sea
When sailing towards East Anglia, none can tell
The wherefore of your voyage to our strand,
And what to you its promised end might be :
Yet who shall dare deny it ended well ?
Ye found not Angle-land, but Aitgel-land.
170
'' Preserve me from the commonplace ! " I cried,
" Nor let me walk the vulgar people's way :
I long to tread a loftier path than they
Who eat and drink, and think of naught beside.''
I climbed to heights which far ahead I spied.
Nor would upon the sordid level stay :
I scorned the valley where the shadows lay,
And sought the peaks by sunlight glorified.
But looking back upon the road I trod,
I find it wound among the lives of men
Who called to me for succour, but in vain.
And now, before I see the Face of God,
I fain would help whom I neglected then :
But I can never pass that way again.
171
A FRIEND have I of beauty great and rare ;
If good or wise she be I do not know,
And yet for her my heart is all aglow —
I love her well because her face is fair.
Another friend have I my joys to share ;
I know not if her face be fair or no —
I love her face because I love her so,
And feel her virtues are beyond compare.
And which, methinks, is dearer of the two .■'
Because the first is passing fair to see
I'd swear all virtues follow in her train ;
Because the second is so good and true
Her face is wondrous beautiful to me :
I know not which is dearer of the twain.
172
What wonders Sunshine works upon the world !
It turns the hillside to an emerald throne,
The sullen ocean to a sapphire stone,
The clouds to crimson bannerets unfurled :
Beneath its spell the meadows are be-pearled
With dewdrops bright in glory not their own ;
The land is girded with a golden zone ;
The rose's dainty petals are uncurled.
When Sunshine doth such wondrous beauty bring
As makes our worn old world awhile to glow
With brightness borrowed from the realms above.
It typifies to us that higher thing
Which makes this earth a very heaven below.
The Sunshine of the soul — we call it Love.
173
Night comes with silent steps across the plain,
In all the gloom of sable garments drest :
Legions of dreams obey her least behest.
And clouds and darkness follow in her train.
Whilst constellations chant their stately strain
She takes our weary earth upon her breast.
And, like a mother, hushes us to rest.
Bidding us now forget life's toil and pain.
'Tis said that morning's joy shall end the night.
The dayspring drive the darkness far away,
And new-born gladness comfort them that weep :
Let those who can, look forward to the light.
And plan the pleasures of the coming day !
But I am weary — let me go to sleep.
174
Three knights went forth to fight in days of yore :
The first in golden armour glittered bright,
The next in burnished silver glistened white,
The third a well-worn suit of iron wore.
Each on his breast a carven legend bore :
" Who wears the Gold shall conquer in the fight 1 "-
" Pleasure and ease attend the Silver Knight ! " —
" The Iron Knight hath better things in store I "
They fought right bravely through the bitter fray ;
And when at last night fell o'er land and sea
Each warrior went to his allotted place :
The first was crowned the victor of the day.
The next forgot his toils in mirth and glee.
The third lay dead, a smile upon his face.
175
9Co iWg Jfn'enlr.
My friend, when thou wart here the woods were gay
With Summer sunshine glinting far and near ;
Above our heads the sapphire sky shone clear
In all the glory of the golden day.
'Tis Autumn now that thou art gone away,
The wild winds wail through woodlands dark and
drear
In sorrow for the slowly dying year,
And all the sullen sky with gloom is grey.
They tell me that the Winter will not last —
That I shall find again with smiling Spring
A glad new year all clad in vernal green ;
But ne'er can it recall the happy past,
Nor the departed days ; nor can it bring
Another friend as dear as thou hast been.
176
Co MV ^a^P*
Sweet Lady mine, a rose thou gavest me !
As long as it was fragrant, fresh, and fair,
Upon my breast did I my treasure wear
That all the world its excellence might see.
But when at last its beauty ceased to be,
And men no longer for its charms could care,
I hid it next my heart — and keep it there
For ever in fond memory of thee.
So will I deal with thee, fair Lady mine ! —
Whilst thou art young I'll wear thee as a flower
That all the world may see thee and adore ;
But when thy peerless charms have ceased to shine
And men no longer own thy beauty's power,
I'll hide thee next my heart for evermore.
177
Few friends have I to whom I now could say,
" My mind to you is Hke an open book ;
In all its secret places ye may look,
And I shall never need to say you nay ! "
For howsoever near and dear were they,
They might, perchance, explore some hidden nook
Where friendship's fixed foundations faintly shook,
And dim, disloyal shadows shunned the day.
But shouldst thou, dearest, with unblinded eyes
The dark recesses of my spirit prove.
And all its inmost sanctuaries see ;
Much wouldst thou find that was not good or wise.
And much, maybe, unworthy of thy love.
But not a single thought untrue to thee.
178
^g in a (glasifli.
Dear, hast thou ever learned to thy surprise
On entering a chamber mirror-lined,
That all the friends thou didst appear to find
Were but thyself reflected severalwise ?
The room seemed full to unaccustomed eyes
Whilst thou wert there; but when thou wert in-
clined
To leave it, nothing then remained behind
But emptiness proportioned to its size.
So if thou lookest in my heart, dear Love,
Such overflowing fulness wilt thou see
That thou shalt seek a vacant spot in vain :
But on a close inspection it will prove
To be completely filled with nought but thee ;
And wert thou gone, then nothing would remain.
179
^ spring l^xu\i.
Across the valley swept a balmy breeze,
Which came from far beyond the purple hills ;
And at his touch the happy little rills
Laughed, and forgot that they had learned to freeze
He breathed new life among the forest trees.
And carpeted the fields with daffodils ;
Then passed away, as one who just fulfils
A task, nor cares if the result will please.
So didst thou turn my Winter into Spring —
Life's deeper meanings teaching me to see.
Till in waste places flowers began to grow ;
Then — smiling as at some unheeded thing —
Didst sdiy farewell. What thou hast been to me
I cannot say, and thou wilt never know.
i8o
Nature's! ^[patfep*
No heart hath Nature, though across the wold
The Summer breezes wander to and fro —
Though vine-clad mountains in the sunlight glow,
And smiling vales stand thick with harvest-gold.
She is as heedless as she was of old :
And cares no more for human weal or woe
Than when she scattered her hoar-frost and snow,
And none were able to abide her cold.
So — crying : " Who will show us any good .■' " —
We turn from Nature's apathy, which chills
The gladness and the grief beyond her ken,
To One Who sits above the waterflood —
Who weighs as dust the everlasting hills —
And yet is mindful of the sons of men.
i8i
I AM too worn and weary now to trace
The story of what thou for me hast done
In all my wanderings underneath the sun
Since that fair morn when first I saw thy face.
I fain would rest me for a little space,
Let Time's relentless hour-glass idly run ;
But do not blame me, dear, nor deem me one
Devoid of either gratitude or grace.
I am not thankless — only tired, my sweet ;
And simply ask to hold thee by the hand
In silence while the shades of evening fall.
Yet it may come to pass we twain shall meet
Beyond the borders of the Shadowland,
And then it will be time to tell thee all.
l82
Co tf)t (Bla ^ear»
Old Year, farewell ! thy fateful thread is spun,
And now at last thy finished work we see.
Though thou hast been a kindly friend to me
I do not sorrow that thy course is run :
The golden glory of thy setting sun
Is but the dawning of a year to be,
So all regretful thoughts. Old Year, of thee
Are lost in gladness for the year begun.
Old Year, 'twas true thy pleasures could not last ;
But yet I hold it also to be true
That bright to-morrows shall eclipse to-day :
The future shall be better than the past —
The old shall be forgotten in the new —
Until " the former things are passed away,"
183
Co tf)t Bfia ^ear*
We bid thee welcome, thou unknown New Year,
With all the treasures that thou hast in store !
Thou mayst bring less than former years, or more —
Yet still above them all we count thee dear ;
For they have passed away, but thou art near :
And though we cannot change those days of yore.
Thou sayst, as thou art knocking at the door —
" Do with me as ye will, for I am here ! "
And who will sigh for withered leaves and dead.
Whilst far in front and fair on either side
Fresh living flowers make all the meadows bright?
And who will turn — regretful tears to shed —
Towards the sad West where yesterday has died.
Whilst all the East shines red with morning
light ?
1 84
^earlp (gates*
Twelve gates — each gate a pearl — shall open wide
To welcome conquering hosts who come to fling
Their golden crowns before their Lord and King
In that fair City, His all-glorious bride.
A pearl is found beneath the flowing tide
And there is held a worse than worthless thing,
Spoiling the shell-built home where it doth cling —
Marring the life near which it must abide.
The everlasting portals are of these.
To teach us that perchance some heavy load —
Some cross 'gainst which so sorely we have striven,
That seems to mar our lives and spoil our ease —
May bring us nearer to the Saints' abode,
And prove at last the very Gate of Heaven,
i85
" a 3Sairrt)oto rounti about tf)t Cftrone/'
(Revelation iv. 3.)
A RAINBOW round the Throne shall shed its light
To tell the old, old story o'er again,
That only in the clouds once black with rain
The Arc of Promise sets its jewels bright ;
That only those who well have fought the fight
And here on earth have suffered grief and pain,
Can learn to swell that new, triumphant strain
Which ransomed hosts shall sing on Sion's height.
And then those white-robed armies, who have passed
Through tribulation in the bygone years,
Shall learn that all the sorrow they have known
Serves but to bring them fuller joy at last.
When Heaven's sunshine falling on Earth's tears
Girds with a Rainbow the Eternal Throne.
1 86
I DREAMED about Earth's garden, where I found
That little foxes spoil the tender vine ;
Among the roses deadly creepers twine,
And lilies fair lie trampled on the ground ;
Whilst round them all the Serpent's coils are wound.
Whereat dense darkness of despair was mine.
For in my blindness I perceived no sign
Of help or comfort as I gazed around.
Then One, I took to be the Gardener, came ;
To Whom I cried, " Sir, is it nought to Thee
That sin and sorrow spoil Thy flowerets sweet .' "
For answer He but called me by my name,
And — as I doubted — turned and looked on me.
Who said, " Rabboni ! "—falling at His Feet.
i8;
Fair flower ! thou waitest on the Sun all day,
Till in the West his light doth fade and die ;
Then Westward dost thou turn thy weeping eye
To guard the gates through which he passed away.
Whilst thou art watching at those portals grey
In vain for him that lately reigned on high,
A sudden glory floods the Eastern sky
Where round their rising king the sunbeams play.
Sweet flower, thou servest to remind us now
Of her who long ago, in bitter need.
Sought vainly that dead Lord she held so dear :
She heard an angel's voice — " Why weepest thoU ?
He is not here, for He is ris'n indeed ! "
And turning straightway saw her Master near.
i88
"In darkest England let there now be light!"
Men start at first to hear the trumpet blare ;
Then fall to wondering how and when and where
The sunshine best should meet the human sight :
If through the lens of science clear and white
The people that in darkness dwell should dare
To look ; or if they first should see the glare
Made soft by " storied windows richly dight " : —
Forgetting that the sunshine is the same,
Whether it glitter through some leafless tree,
Or glow through panes bejewelled in the past,
Or glide through broken rafters like a flame :
These things change not the light ; we only see
A difference in the shadows that they cast.
1 89
One day I grieved because our greatest gain
Grows pale beside the smallest loss we feel ;
One hour of wrong can years of right repeal ;
One faulty link can spoil the strongest chain ;
One little thorn can cause a cruel pain
That twice ten thousand roses cannot heal ;
One harsh discordant note can straightway steal
All harmony from e'en the sweetest strain.
To these my doubts there came an answer sure —
" God's laws are right if rightly understood !
Man's patent of perfection lies in this,
That nought imperfecj; can his soul endure :
The highest natures seek the highest good
Till they are perfect as their Father is."
I90
mt mm ot mt.
Think not the weary warfare nought avails,
Though oftentimes it seem beyond thy might.
Strive ever on the side of truth and right,
And heed not whom the world as victor hails !
We know not here who conquers, or who fails ;
But angels gazing from their peaceful height
See clearly those who well have fought the fight.
And name him Prince who wrestles and prevails.
So one, perchance, whom men called strong and
brave,
Shall find his wreath of earthly laurels fade
When heaven's glory ends the storm and strife ;
Whilst one, who slept within a nameless grave,
Shall stand before the seraphs undismayed.
And wear upon his brow a crown of life.
191
Now Jacob took his gods of wood and stone
And buried them at Shechem, so we read ;
Then journeyed onward, as the Lord decreed,
To Bethel, to erect one Shrine alone.
We likewise, travelling by a way unknown
To reach the great High-Altar, oft have need
To re-enact the patriarchal deed,
And put away the forms we have outgrown.
Yet Israel did not burn his cast-off gods,
Nor break them up, but laid them in the mould
Beneath an oak-tree by the way he came :
So may we leave in consecrated sods
The images that taught our souls of old,
Nor deem the Shechem in our hearts a shame.
192
stream antr Hafee.
A STREAMLET started singing seaward-ho !
But found across the path its fancy planned
A stone which stopped it with the stern command,
" Thus far and never farther shalt thou go."
Then, where the tiny stream was wont to flow,
A shining lake appeared with silver strand,
Refreshing flower-strewn fields on either hand —
Reflecting starry skies and sunset glow.
So oftentimes we find our progress stayed
By stones that bar the steps we fain had trod ;
Whereat we murmur with a sense of wrong,
Unmindful that by means Hke this is made
That sea of glass where stand the saints of God
To sing the new and never-ending song.
193
€i)t JSteton jTisiftermeu'si ^raptr.
" Dear Lord, Thy sea is great — our boats are small ! "
So cry the fishers of the Northern sea
When God's high wind ariseth stormily,
Uplifting them before a sudden fall.
Thus in distress we also ofttimes call
When blindly beaten to and fro are we,
Far from the haven where we fain would be,
While wind-swept seas our melting hearts appal.
And when for us the waves thereof are still,
And we would gladly help those storm-tossed
souls
Who yet are struggling 'neath the tempest's
weight,
Feeling the frailty of all human skill.
We humbly whisper, whilst the thunder rolls,
" Dear Lord, our boats are small — Thy sea is
great ! "
M
194
€f)t ISest Ctll Hasit.
" Fill up the pots with water to the brim ;
And, having fully filled them, straightway pour ! "
They did as He commanded them, and bore
To one that gave the feast ; who touched the rim.
Then cried, " Most men, when lights are burning dim
And all the glory of the feast is. o'er.
Stop the good wine and bring a poorer store :
But of a truth it is not so with Him."
Life likewise giveth all her good wine first :
Youth, Pleasure, Love, before the guests are laid ;
Then, when the festival is well-nigh past
And men have drunk the best, they drain the worst
And disappointed die ; but He, Who made
The water wine, will keep His best till last.
195
The drops of water which have turned the wheel
Will ne'er come back to turn the wheel again :
The blossoms which have shed their rosy rain
Will nevermore the Spring's sweet promise seal.
Yet still the miller slowly grinds to meal
His goodly store of golden-tinted grain ;
And still the Spring returns to hill and plain,
And treads the dust to flowers beneath her heel.
Fear ye not, therefore, lest the cause ye love
Should languish, when your tender, toil-worn hands
Are crossed in peace beneath the daisied sod !
The Means wax old and perishable prove —
The End endures eternally, and stands
Above the ages, face to face with God.
196
Strangely the wondrous story doth begin
Of that which came to pass on Christmas Day —
" The new-born babe within a manger lay
Because there was no room inside the inn."
No room for Him Who came to conquer sin
And bid distress and mourning flee away !
So in the stable He was fain to stay
Whilst revelry and riot reigned within.
And still the same old tale is told again :
The world is full of greed and gain and glee,
And has no room for God because of them.
Lord, though my heart be filled with joy and pain,
Grant that it ne'er may find no room for Thee,
Like that benighted inn at Bethlehem !
197
The women sought the tomb at dawn of day,
And as they went they wept and made their moan
" His sepulchre is guarded by a stone,
And who for us shall roll the stone away ? "
But lo ! — an Angel, robed in white array,
Had rent the rock and sat thereon alone.
" Fear not," said he ; " the Lord hath overthrown
The power of Death : I show you where He lay."
We echo oftentimes that cry of old :
Huge stumbling-blocks confront us whilst we wait
And wonder, weeping, who will help afford :
But as we question sorrowing, behold !
The stone is rolled away, though it is great,
And on it sits the Angel of the Lord,
198
The Syrians said, " Their God is of the hill,
And in high places He is wont to reign ;
But let us fight with Israel on the plain,
And it will he our turn to smite and kill ! "
So now again we cry, " The Lord doth fill
The heavens with the glory of His train ;
But to earth's darkest depths of grief and pain
He stoops not, leaving sin to work its will ! "
Still runs the answer, " Woe to them tha;t see
In Me unrighteousness, nor understand
That high and lowly are of equal worth !
Both light and darkness are alike to Me :
The mountains' strength is Mine ; and in
My Hand
Are all the hidden corners of the earth."
199
Ef)t BeaTi anlr tfie Hibi'ng,
" Shall the dead praise Thee ? " was the Psalmist's
cry :
" Shall all Thy wonders in the grave be shown ?
Or can Thy lovingkindness be made known
In that forgetful land where shadows lie ? "
But he, who saw descending from the sky
The holy City like a jasper stone,
Told how the elders round the emerald Throne
Chanted in heaven their glorious psalmody.
" To God be blessing, honour, power and might
For ever ! " sang a countless, white-robed throng :
And only they, who suffered death's ech'pse
And passed through darkness into dazzling light,
Could learn that new and everlasting song.
So spake the Seer of the Apocalypse.
200
€f)t (j^facnmg anti ti)t iMo ruing.
Say not that darkness is the doom of light,
That every sun must sink in night's abyss,
While every golden day declines to this,
To die and pass at evening out of sight.
Say rather that the morning ends the night,
That death must die beneath the dayspring's kiss —
Whilst dawn the powers of darkness shall dismiss,
And put their dusky armaments to flight.
Man measures life in this wise ; first the morn.
And secondly the noontide's perfect prime,
And lastly night, when all things fade away :
But God, ere yet the sons of men were born.
Showed forth a better way of marking time —
" The evening and the morning were the day."
20I
aaaulfiuna's! J^ampton,
( Wolverhampton.)
Now certain women carved their names in stone
Tliat whosoever ran the same might read.
Cambridge was founded by Saint Etheldrede,
The holy daughter of an Anglian throne :
Saint Frideswide it was made Oxford known
By many a generous gift and godly deed :
Saint Hilda nobly helped Northumbria's need
When Whitby's abbey to full height had grown.
Wulfruna, likewise, chose the better part ;
And in the midst of this our Mercian plain
A stately minster to God's glory raised,
To prove thereafter to the thronging mart
That favour is deceitful, beauty vain.
But she that fears her Maker shall be praised.
302
{loi/t May, 1893.)
The sons of England shouted, " Let us raise
A princely palace, 'mid a people's cheers,
In memory of half a hundred years
Of queenly progress in all perfect ways !
And o'er its porch this paean let us blaze :
' Tis England that is prime among her peers ;
No powers nor principalities she fears ;
To England therefore be perpetual praise ! "
And England answered, " Do as ye have said,
That so their fathers' glory may be shown
To generations which come after you.
But rase your writing, and inscribe instead
The superscription of the Prophet's stone :
The Lord our God hath helped us hitherto!'
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Cornell University Library
-r. ou I I.096V6 1905
Verses, wise or otherwise, with which are
3 1924 013 614 049