And, looking on the remnant and the waste, Can you absolve me,--me, the doubter, one Who challenged what G.o.d spent His genius on, His genius and His pride; so fair, so chaste?

I am ashamed. . . . And when I told my dreams, Shaken and humble,--"Dear, there was no cause,"

Your words; proud, sorrowful, as it beseems

Such as thou art. There never was a cause Why you should honour me. Ashamed am I.

And you forgive me, bless me, for reply.

BENEDICTUS

You bless me, then you turn away your head-- "Never again, dear. I have blessed you so, My lips upon your lips; between must flow The river--Oh the river!" Thus you said.

The river--Oh the river, and the sun; Stream that we may not cross, sun that is joy: Flow as thou must; shine on in full employ-- Shine through her eyes thou; let the river run.

O lady, to your liegeman speak. You say: "Dream no more dreams; yourself be as am I!"

Your hands clasped to your face, so shutting out the day.

An instant, then to me, your low good-bye-- Good-night, good-bye; and then the social reign, The lights, the songs, the flowers--and the pain.

THE MESSAGE

"Oh, hush!" you said; "oh, hush!" The twilight hung Between us and the world; but in your face, Flooding with warm inner light, the sovereign grace Of one who rests the brooding trees among--

Of one who steps down from a lofty throne, Seeking that peace the sceptre cannot call; And leaving courtier, page, and seneschal, Goes down the lane of sycamores alone;

And, going, listens to the notes that swell From golden throats--stories of ardent days, And lovers in fair vales; and homing bell:

And the sweet theme unbearable, she prays The song-bird cease! So, on the tale I dare, Your "hush!" your wistful "hush!" broke like prayer.

UNAVAILING

"Never," you said, "never this side the grave, And what shall come hereafter, who may know?

Whether we e'en shall guess the way we go, Pa.s.sing beneath Death's mystic architrave

Silence or song, dumb sleep or cheerful hours?"

O lady, you have questioned, answer too.

You--you to die--silence and gloom for you: Dead song, dead lights, dead graces, and dead flowers?

It is not so: the foolish trivial end, The inconsequent paltry Nothing--gone--gone all; The genius of the ageless Something spend

Itself within this little earthly wall: The commonplace conception, that we reap Reward of drudge and ploughman--idle sleep!

YOU SHALL LIVE ON

You shall live on triumphant, you shall take Your place among the peerless, fearless ones; And those who loved you here shall tell their sons To honour every woman for your sake.

And those your Peers shall say, "Others are pure, Others are n.o.ble, others too have vowed, And for a vow have suffered; but she bowed Her own soul and another's to endure.

She smote the being more to her than all,-- Her own soul and the world,--a truth to hold, Faith with the dead; and hung a heavy pall

'Tween her and love and life. The world is old, It hath sent here none queenlier. Of the few, The royal few is she, martyred and true."

"VEX NOT THIS GHOST"

Upon the rack of this tough world I hear, As when Cordelia's glories all dissever- "Never--never--never--never--never,--"

That wild moan of the dispossessed Lear.

O world, vex not this ghost, yea, let it pa.s.s, The Spirit of these songs. The fool hath mocked, The fool our woe upon us hath unlocked From where the soul holds to our lips the gla.s.s,

To see what breath of life. O fool, poor fool, Well, we have laughed together, you and I.

O fond insulter, in the healing pool

Of your deep poignant raillery I lie.

Let us be grand again, my fool. The throne Is gone; but see, the coronation stone!