When at last soft sleep comes o'er me, A cold hand is on my heart; Stern sad eyes are there before me; Not in dreams will he depart: And when the same dreary vision From my weary brain has fled, Daylight brings the living phantom, He is seated by my bed, Bending o'er me all the while, With his cruel, bitter smile, Ever with me, ever nigh;-- And either he or I must die!

Then I said, long time ago, "I will flee to other climes, I will leave mine ancient foe!"

Though I wandered far and wide-- Still he followed at my side.

And I fled where the blue waters Bathe the sunny isles of Greece; Where Thessalian mountains rise Up against the purple skies; Where a haunting memory liveth In each wood and cave and rill; But no dream of G.o.ds could help me-- He went with me still!

I have been where Nile's broad river Flows upon the burning sand; Where the desert monster broodeth, Where the Eastern palm-trees stand; I have been where pathless forests Spread a black eternal shade; Where the lurking panther hiding Glares from every tangled glade; But in vain I wandered wide, He was always by my side!

Then I fled where snows eternal Cold and dreary ever lie; Where the rosy lightnings gleam, Flashing through the northern sky; Where the red sun turns again Back upon his path of pain;-- But a shadowy form was with me-- I had fled in vain!

I have thought, "If I can gaze Sternly on him he will fade, For I know that he is nothing But a dim ideal shade."

As I gazed at him the more, He grew stronger than before!

Then I said, "Mine arm is strong, I will make him turn and flee:"

I have struggled with him long-- But that could never be!

Once I battled with him so That I thought I laid him low; Then in trembling joy I fled, While again and still again Murmuring to myself I said, "Mine old enemy is dead!"

And I stood beneath the stars, When a chill came on my frame, And a fear I could not name, And a sense of quick despair, And, lo! mine enemy was there!

Listen, for my soul is weary, Weary of its endless woe; I have called on one to aid me Mightier even than my foe.

Strength and hope fail day by day; I shall cheat him of his prey; Some day soon, I know not when, He will stab me through and through; He has wounded me before, But my heart can bear no more; Pray that hour may come to me, Only then shall I be free; Death alone has strength to take me Where my foe can never be; Death, and Death alone, has power To conquer mine old enemy!

VERSE: THE TRIUMPH OF TIME

The tender delicate Flowers, I saw them fanned by a warm western wind, Fed by soft summer showers, Shielded by care, and yet, (oh Fate unkind!) Fade in a few short hours.

The gentle and the gay, Rich in a glorious Future of bright deeds, Rejoicing in the day, Are met by Death, who sternly, sadly leads Them far away.

And Hopes, perfumed and bright, So lately shining, wet with dew and tears, Trembling in morning light; I saw them change to dark and anxious fears Before the night!

I wept that all must die-- "Yet Love," I cried, "doth live, and conquer death--"

And Time pa.s.sed by, And breathed on Love, and killed it with his breath Ere Death was nigh.

More bitter far than all It was to know that Love could change and die-- Hush! for the ages call "The Love of G.o.d lives through eternity, And conquers all!"

VERSE: A PARTING

Without one bitter feeling let us part-- And for the years in which your love has shed A radiance like a glory round my head, I thank you, yes, I thank you from my heart.

I thank you for the cherished hope of years, A starry future, dim and yet divine, Winging its way from Heaven to be mine, Laden with joy, and ignorant of tears.

I thank you, yes, I thank you even more That my heart learnt not without love to live, But gave and gave, and still had more to give, From an abundant and exhaustless store.

I thank you, and no grief is in these tears; I thank you, not in bitterness but truth, For the fair vision that adorned my youth And glorified so many happy years.

Yet how much more I thank you that you tore At length the veil your hand had woven away, Which hid my idol was a thing of clay, And false the altar I had knelt before.

I thank you that you taught me the stern truth, (None other could have told and I believed,) That vain had been my life, and I deceived, And wasted all the purpose of my youth.

I thank you that your hand dashed down the shrine, Wherein my idol worship I had paid; Else had I never known a soul was made To serve and worship only the Divine.

I thank you that the heart I cast away On such as you, though broken, bruised and crushed, Now that its fiery throbbing is all hushed, Upon a worthier altar I can lay.

I thank you for the lesson that such love Is a perverting of G.o.d's royal right, That it is made but for the Infinite, And all too great to live except above.

I thank you for a terrible awaking, And if reproach seemed hidden in my pain, And sorrow seemed to cry on your disdain, Know that my blessing lay in your forsaking.

Farewell for ever now:- in peace we part; And should an idle vision of my tears Arise before your soul in after years-- Remember that I thank you from my heart!

VERSE: THE GOLDEN GATE

Dim shadows gather thickly round, and up the misty stair they climb, The cloudy stair that upward leads to where the closed portals shine, Round which the kneeling spirits wait the opening of the Golden Gate.

And some with eager longing go, still pressing forward, hand in hand, And some with weary step and slow, look back where their Beloved stand-- Yet up the misty stair they climb, led onward by the Angel Time.

As unseen hands roll back the doors, the light that floods the very air Is but the shadow from within, of the great glory hidden there-- And morn and eve, and soon and late, the shadows pa.s.s within the gate.

As one by one they enter in, and the stern portals close once more, The halo seems to linger round those kneeling closest to the door: The joy that lightened from that place shines still upon the watcher's face.

The faint low echo that we hear of far-off music seems to fill The silent air with love and fear, and the world's clamours all grow still, Until the portals close again, and leave us toiling on in pain.

Complain not that the way is long--what road is weary that leads there?

But let the Angel take thy hand, and lead thee up the misty stair, And then with beating heart await, the opening of the Golden Gate.

VERSE: PHANTOMS

Back, ye Phantoms of the Past; In your dreary caves remain: What have I to do with memories Of a long-forgotten pain?

For my Present is all peaceful, And my Future n.o.bly planned: Long ago Time's mighty billows Swept your footsteps from the sand.

Back into your caves; nor haunt me With your voices full of woe; I have buried grief and sorrow In the depths of Long-ago.

See the glorious clouds of morning Roll away, and clear and bright Shine the rays of cloudless daylight-- Wherefore will ye moan of night?