For there the s.e.x in daily rout With scandal taint the air; No lying rumour runs about But hath a mother there.

Dumb Truth the while in that dark place A laughing-stock is laid; They dash the bucket in her face, Widow, and wife, and maid.

THE DEAD CROCODILE.

Upon the bank of ancient Nile, A shoal of Arab boys Belaboured a dead crocodile, With oriental noise.

They cursed his mother and his beard, They cursed his spotted sire, They kicked, and smote, and spat, and jeered, And pelted him with mire.

They lashed a cord around his jaws, They sat astride his back, They twisted round his webbed claws, And made the sinews crack.

When all at once the cold dead thing, As by Galvani's art, Its flabby tail appeared to swing With momentary start.

Away, away, fled every one, Round corners and up trees, And left the monster all alone In death's unbroken peace.

Emblem of cowardice is here, Patent to mind and eye: What they deserve such wretches fear, Without a danger nigh.

THE HYaeNA.

I saw a foul hyaena led, Two slaves his snout had bound, Captured within a tomb they said, And showed his jaws still reeking red With blood from holy ground.

Vile scribblers in their greed of gold, Thus through death's cerements thrust, 'Mid scandals there obscene and old, And tales of darkness best untold, Battening on filthy dust.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

GRAt.i.tUDE.

The Moslem who accepts your alms Thanks G.o.d alone, the kind and true; The Frank, if guerdon cross his palms, Thanks only you.

Both kindness here, and grace above, Duly should every heart confess; And they who slight a brother's love, Slight G.o.d's no less.

THE NUBIAN BOATMEN.

These bronze-armed slaves so lithe and strong, Row on for many a gla.s.sy mile Through burning hours, and all the while They praise in sweet recurring song, "The Lord that brings the Nile."

O thou, rec.u.mbent traveller, note Approval of their simple ways, Who lighten toil with pious lays; 'Twere ill adown life's stream to float Without or work or praise.

THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM.

Now the Christian pilgrim wanders 'Mid ravines of sin and care; On the craggy ledge he ponders, Probing all with staff of prayer.

Freshened by the wayside fountain With the flag of peace still furled, Lo! he hails the shining mountain O'er the ruins of the world.

There upon the heights of glory, Lettered on the golden clay, He shall read Earth's complex story And his banner float for aye.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE FORGET-ME-NOT.

Among the meadow-gra.s.ses dank That fringe the running stream, This little flower begems the bank With turquoise-coloured gleam.

Emblem of many a mortal's lot, Who, tracking bygone years, Still finds the sweet Forget-me-not Fast by the fount of tears.

TEXTS ON TOMBSTONES.

Where round our church the pious stones Watch the green pillows of the dead, Pa.s.s not, but read in reverent tones The silent Scripture overhead.

From desert peak the storm-cloud poured Light on the tables of the Law, But sunshine here o'er flowers and sward Reveals the grace that softens awe.

And faith will greet on many a tomb An emblem of His loving speech Who said, if every mouth were dumb The very stones His truth would teach.

ROSE GARDEN AT ASHRIDGE.

Softly at noontide one reposes When sunshine melts the thought to dream, Within this labyrinth of roses Whose centre is the fountain's gleam.

We match our mortal life and beauty, With this ineffable array Of creatures free from sin and duty, Delicious even in decay;