VERSE: THE REQUITAL

Loud roared the Tempest, Fast fell the sleet; A little Child Angel Pa.s.sed down the street, With trailing pinions, And weary feet.

The moon was hidden; No stars were bright; So she could not shelter In heaven that night, For the Angels' ladders Are rays of light.

She beat her wings At each window pane, And pleaded for shelter, But all in vain:-- "Listen," they said, "To the pelting rain!"

She sobbed, as the laughter And mirth grew higher, "Give me rest and shelter Beside your fire, And I will give you Your heart's desire."

The dreamer sat watching His embers gleam, While his heart was floating Down hope's bright stream; . . . So he wove her wailing Into his dream.

The worker toiled on, For his time was brief; The mourner was nursing Her own pale grief: They heard not the promise That brought relief.

But fiercer the Tempest Rose than before, When the Angel paused At a humble door, And asked for shelter And help once more.

A weary woman, Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her Of want and sin, Heard the Child Angel And took her in.

Took her in gently, And did her best To dry her pinions; And made her rest With tender pity Upon her breast.

When the eastern morning Grew bright and red, Up the first sunbeam The Angel fled; Having kissed the woman And left her--dead.

VERSE: RETURNED--"MISSING" (FIVE YEARS AFTER)

Yes, I was sad and anxious, But now, dear, I am gay; I know that it is wisest To put all hope away:- Thank G.o.d that I have done so And can be calm to-day.

For hope deferred--you know it, Once made my heart so sick: Now, I expect no longer; It is but the old trick Of hope, that makes me tremble, And makes my heart beat quick.

All day I sit here calmly; Not as I did before, Watching for one whose footstep Comes never, never more . . .

Hush! was that someone pa.s.sing, Who paused beside the door?

For years I hung on chances, Longing for just one word; At last I feel it:- silence Will never more be stirred . . .

Tell me once more that rumour, You fancied you had heard.

Life has more things to dwell on Than just one useless pain, Useless and past for ever; But n.o.ble things remain, And wait us all: . . . you too, dear, Do you think hope quite vain?

All others have forgotten, 'Tis right I should forget, Nor live on a keen longing Which shadows forth regret: . . .

Are not the letters coming?

The sun is almost set.

Now that my restless legion Of hopes and fears is fled, Reading is joy and comfort . . .

. . . This very day I read, Oh, such a strange returning Of one whom all thought dead!

Not that I dream or fancy, You know all that is past; Earth has no hope to give me, And yet:- Time flies so fast That all but the impossible Might be brought back at last.

VERSE: IN THE WOOD

In the wood where shadows are deepest From the branches overhead, Where the wild wood-strawberries cl.u.s.ter And the softest moss is spread, I met to-day with a fairy, And I followed her where she led.

Some magical words she uttered, I alone could understand, For the sky grew bluer and brighter; While there rose on either hand The cloudy walls of a palace That was built in Fairy-land.

And I stood in a strange enchantment; I had known it all before: In my heart of hearts was the magic Of days that will come no more, The manic of joy departed, That Time can never restore.

That never, ah, never, never, Never again can be:- Shall I tell you what powerful fairy Built up this palace for me?

It was only a little white Violet I found at the root of a tree.

VERSE: TWO WORLDS

G.o.d's world is bathed in beauty, G.o.d's world is steeped in light; It is the self-same glory That makes the day so bright, Which thrills the earth with music, Or hangs the stars in night.

Hid in earth's mines of silver, Floating on clouds above,-- Ringing in Autumn's tempest, Murmured by every dove; One thought fills G.o.d's creation-- His own great name of Love!

In G.o.d's world Strength is lovely, And so is Beauty strong, And Light--G.o.d's glorious shadow-- To both great gifts belong; And they all melt into sweetness, And fill the earth with Song.

Above G.o.d's world bends Heaven, With day's kiss pure and bright, Or folds her still more fondly In the tender shade of night; And she casts back Heaven's sweetness, In fragrant love and light.

G.o.d's world has one great echo; Whether calm blue mists are curled, Or lingering dew-drops quiver, Or red storms are unfurled; The same deep love is throbbing Through the great heart of G.o.d's world.

Man's world is black and blighted, Steeped through with self and sin; And should his feeble purpose Some feeble good begin, The work is marred and tainted By Leprosy within.

Man's world is bleak and bitter; Wherever he has trod He spoils the tender beauty That blossoms on the sod, And blasts the loving Heaven Of the great, good world of G.o.d.

There Strength on coward weakness In cruel might will roll; Beauty and Joy are cankers That eat away the soul; And Love--Oh G.o.d, avenge it-- The plague-spot of the whole.

Man's world is Pain and Terror; He found it pure and fair, And wove in nets of sorrow The golden summer air.

Black, hideous, cold, and dreary, Man's curse, not G.o.d's, is there.

And yet G.o.d's world is speaking: Man will not hear it call; But listens where the echoes Of his own discords fall, Then clamours back to Heaven That G.o.d has done it all.

Oh G.o.d, man's heart is darkened, He will not understand!

Show him Thy cloud and fire; And, with Thine own right hand Then lead him through his desert, Back to Thy Holy Land!