"Sometimes men come, and they sing, But I know not their song nor their voice; They have no hearts they can bring, They have no souls to rejoice, Theirs is but folly and noise.

Oh for a voice that could sing Songs to the Queen of the blest, Hymns to the Dearest and Best, Songs to our Master, her King!"

The church was full of silence. I shut in Its loss and loneliness, and went my way.

Its sadness was not less its walls within Because I wore it in my heart that day, And many a day since, when I see again Marsh sunsets, and across the golden plain The church's golden roof and arches gray.

Along wet roads, all shining with late rain, And through wet woods, all dripping, brown and sere, I came one day towards the church again.

It was the spring-time of the day and year; The sky was light and bright and flecked with cloud That, wind-swept, changeful, through bright rents allowed Sun and blue sky to smile and disappear.

The sky behind the old gray church was gray-- Gray as my memories, and gray as I; The forlorn graves each side the gra.s.sy way Called to me "Brother!" as I pa.s.sed them by.

The door was open. "I shall feel again,"

I thought, "that inextinguishable pain Of longing loss and hopeless memory."

When--O electric flash of ecstasy!

No spirit's moan of pain fell on my ear-- A human voice, an angel's melody, G.o.d let me in that perfect moment hear.

Oh, the sweet rush of gladness and delight, Of human striving to the heavenly light, Of great ideals, permanent and dear!

All the old dreams linked with the newer faith, All the old faith with higher dreams enwound, Surged through the very heart of loss and death In pa.s.sionate waves of pure and perfect sound.

The past came back: the Christ, the Mother-maid, The incense of the hearts that praised and prayed, The past's peace, and the future's faith profound.

"_Ave Maria, Gratia plena, Dominus tec.u.m: Benedicta tu In mulieribus, Et benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus.

Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, Ora pro n.o.bis peccatoribus Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen._"

And all the soul of all the past was here-- A human heart that loved the great and good, A heart to which the great ideals were dear, One that had heard and that had understood, As I had done, the church's desolate moan, And answered it as I had never done, And never willed to do and never could.

I left the church, glad to the soul and strong, And pa.s.sed along by fresh earth-scented ways; Safe in my heart the echo of that song Lived, as it will live with me all my days.

The church will never lose that echo, nor Be quite as lonely ever any more; Nor will my soul, where too that echo stays.

RYE.

A little town that stands upon a hill, Against whose base the white waves once leaped high; Now spreading round it, even, green and still, The placid pastures of the marshes lie.

The red-roofed houses and the gray church tower Bear half asleep the sunshine and the rain; They wait, so long have waited, for the hour When the wild, welcome sea shall come again.

The lovely lights across the marshes pa.s.s, The d.y.k.es grow fair with blossom, reed and sedge; The patient beasts crop the long, cool, green gra.s.s, The willows shiver at the water's edge;

But the town sleeps, it will not wake for these.

The sea some day again will round it break, Will surge across these leagues of pastoral peace, And then the little town will laugh, and wake.

THE BALLAD OF THE TWO SPELLS.

"Why dost thou weep?" the ma.s.s priest said; "Fair dame, why dost thou weep?"

"I weep because my lord is laid In an enchanted sleep.

"It was upon our bridal day The bitter thing befel, My love and lord was lured away By an ill witch's spell.

"She lured him to her hidden bower Among the cypress trees, And there she holdeth manhood's flower Asleep across her knees."

"Pray to our Father for His aid, G.o.d knows ye need it sore."

"O G.o.d of Heaven, have I not prayed?

But I will pray no more.

"G.o.d will not listen to my prayer, And never a Saint will hear, Else should I stand beside him there, Or he be with me here.

"But there he sleeps--and I wake here And wet my bread with tears-- And still they say that G.o.d can hear, And still G.o.d never hears.

"If I could learn a mighty spell, Would get my love awake, I'd sell my soul alive to h.e.l.l, And learn it for his sake.

"So say thy ma.s.s, and go thy way, And let my grief alone-- Teach thou the happy how to pray And leave the devil his own."

Within the witch's secret bower Through changeful day and night, Hour after priceless golden hour, Lay the enchanted knight.

The witch's arms about him lay, His face slept in her hair; The devil taught her the spell to say Because she was so fair.

And all about the bower were flowers And gems and golden gear, And still she watched the slow-foot hours Because he was so dear.

Watched in her tower among the trees For his long sleep to break; And still he lay across her knees And still he did not wake.

What whisper stirs the curtain's fold?

What foot comes up the stair?

What hand draws back the cloth of gold And leaves the portal bare?

The night wind sweeps through all the room, The tapers fleer and flare, And from the portal's outer gloom His true love enters there.

"Give place, thou wicked witch, give place, For his true wife is here, Who for his sake has lost heaven's grace Because he was so dear.

"My soul is lost and his is won; Thy spells his sleep did make, But I know thy spell, the only one Can get my lord awake."

The witch looked up, her shining eyes Gleamed through her yellow hair-- (She was cast out of Paradise Because she was so fair).

"Speak out the spell, thou loving wife, And what it beareth, bide, Go--bring thy lover back to life And give thy lord a bride."

The wife's soul burned in every word As low she spoke the spell, Weeping in heaven, her angel heard, One, hearing, laughed in h.e.l.l.

And when the spell was spoken through, Sudden the knight awoke And turned his eyes upon the two-- And neither of them spoke.

He did not see his pale-faced wife Whom sorrow had made wise, He only saw the light of life Burn in the witch's eyes.