To hear life's perfect music rise, And while it floods the happy skies, Thy feeble voice to recognise.

Then strive more gladly to fulfil Thy little part. This darkness still Is light to every loving will.

And trust,--as if already plain, How just thy share of loss and pain Is for another fuller gain.

I dare not limit time or place Touched by thy life: nor dare I trace Its far vibrations into s.p.a.ce.

One only knows. Yet if the fret Of thy weak heart, in weak regret Needs a more tender comfort yet:

Then thou mayst take thy loneliest fears, The bitterest drops of all thy tears, The dreariest hours of all thy years;

And through thy anguish there outspread, May ask that G.o.d's great love would shed Blessings on one beloved head.

And thus thy soul shall learn to draw Sweetness from out that loving law That sees no failure and no flaw,

Where all is good. And life is good, Were the one lesson understood Of its most sacred brotherhood.

VERSE: A CHANGELING

A little changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day: I had no heart or courage To drive the child away.

So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest.

I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep; I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep.

I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too:- It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue.

I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old.

I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest.

In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the Virgin Mother Holding her Child divine.

I knelt down there in silence, And on the Altar-stone I laid my wailing burden, And came away--alone.

And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel, With wines both wide and strong.

She watches me from Heaven, With loving, tender care, And one day she has promised That I shall find her there.

VERSE: DISCOURAGED

Where the little babbling streamlet First springs forth to light, Trickling through soft velvet mosses, Almost hid from sight; Vowed I with delight,-- "River, I will follow thee, Through thy wanderings to the Sea!"

Gleaming 'mid the purple heather, Downward then it sped, Glancing through the mountain gorges, Like a silver thread, As it quicker fled, Louder music in its flow, Dashing to the Vale below.

Then its voice grew lower, gentler, And its pace less fleet, Just as though it loved to linger Round the rushes' feet, As they stooped to meet Their clear images below, Broken by the ripples' flow.

Purple Willow-herb bent over To her shadow fair; Meadow-sweet, in feathery cl.u.s.ters, Perfumed all the air; Silver-weed was there, And in one calm, gra.s.sy spot, Starry, blue Forget-me-not.

Tangled weeds, below the waters, Still seemed drawn away; Yet the current, floating onward, Was less strong than they;-- Sunbeams watched their play, With a flickering light and shade, Through the screen the Alders made.

Broader grew the flowing River; To its gra.s.sy brink Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays, Cattle trooped to drink: The blue sky, I think, Was no bluer than that stream, Slipping onward, like a dream.

Quicker, deeper then it hurried, Rushing fierce and free; But I said, "It should grow calmer Ere it meets the Sea, The wide purple Sea, Which I weary for in vain, Wasting all my toil and pain."

But it rushed still quicker, fiercer, In its rocky bed, Hard and stony was the pathway To my tired tread; "I despair," I said, "Of that wide and glorious Sea That was promised unto me."

So I turned aside, and wandered Through green meadows near, Far away, among the daisies, Far away, for fear Lest I still should hear The loud murmur of its song, As the River flowed along.

Now I hear it not:- I loiter Gaily as before; Yet I sometimes think,--and thinking Makes my heart so sore,-- Just a few steps more, And there might have shone for me, Blue and infinite, the Sea.

VERSE: IF THOU COULDST KNOW

I think if thou couldst know, Oh soul that will complain, What lies concealed below Our burden and our pain; How just our anguish brings Nearer those longed-for things We seek for now in vain,-- I think thou wouldst rejoice, and not complain.

I think if thou couldst see, With thy dim mortal sight, How meanings, dark to thee, Are shadows hiding light; Truth's efforts crossed and vexed, Life's purpose all perplexed,-- If thou couldst see them right, I think that they would seem all clear, and wise, and bright.

And yet thou canst not know, And yet thou canst not see; Wisdom and sight are slow In poor humanity.

If thou couldst trust, poor soul, In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest: Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best.

VERSE: THE WARRIOR TO HIS DEAD BRIDE

If in the fight my arm was strong, And forced my foes to yield, If conquering and unhurt I came Back from the battle-field-- It is because thy prayers have been My safeguard and my shield.

My comrades smile to see my arm Spare or protect a foe, They think thy gentle pleading voice Was silenced long ago; But pity and compa.s.sion, love, Were taught me first by woe.

Thy heart, my own, still beats in Heaven With the same love divine That made thee stoop to such a soul, So hard, so stern, as mine-- My eyes have learnt to weep, beloved, Since last they looked on thine.

I hear thee murmur words of peace Through the dim midnight air, And a calm falls from the angel stars And soothes my great despair-- The Heavens themselves look brighter, love, Since thy sweet soul is there.

And if my heart is once more calm, My step is once more free, It is because each hour I feel Thou prayest still for me; Because no fate or change can come Between my soul and thee.

It is because my heart is stilled.