Two days ago with dancing glancing hair, With living lips and eyes: Now pale, dumb, blind, she lies; So pale, yet still so fair.

We have not left her yet, not yet alone; But soon must leave her where She will not miss our care, Bone of our bone.

Weep not; O friends, we should not weep: Our friend of friends lies full of rest; No sorrow rankles in her breast, Fallen fast asleep.

She sleeps below, She wakes and laughs above; To-day, as she walked, let us walk in love, To-morrow follow so.

TWILIGHT NIGHT.

I.

We met, hand to hand, We clasped hands close and fast, As close as oak and ivy stand; But it is past: Come day, come night, day comes at last.

We loosed hand from hand, We parted face from face; Each went his way to his own land At his own pace: Each went to fill his separate place.

If we should meet one day, If both should not forget.

We shall clasp hands the accustomed way, As when we met So long ago, as I remember yet.

II.

Where my heart is (wherever that may be) Might I but follow!

If you fly thither over heath and lea, O honey-seeking bee, O careless swallow!

Bid some for whom I watch keep watch for me

Alas! that we must dwell, my heart and I, So far asunder.

Hours wax to days, and days and days creep by; I watch with wistful eye, I wait and wonder: When will that day draw nigh--that hour draw nigh?

Not yesterday, and not I think to-day; Perhaps to-morrow.

Day after day "to-morrow," thus I say: I watched so yesterday In hope and sorrow, Again to-day I watch the accustomed way.

A BIRD SONG.

It's a year almost that I have not seen her: Oh, last summer green things were greener, Brambles fewer, the blue sky bluer.

It's surely summer, for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.

Oh happy swallow whose mate will follow O'er height, o'er hollow! I'd be a swallow, To build this weather one nest together.

A SMILE AND A SIGH.

A smile because the nights are short!

And every morning brings such pleasure Of sweet love-making, harmless sport: Love that makes and finds its treasure; Love, treasure without measure.

A sigh because the days are long!

Long, long these days that pa.s.s in sighing, A burden saddens every song: While time lags which should be flying, We live who would be dying.

DEVOTIONAL PIECES.

AMOR MUNDI.

"O where are you going with your love-locks flowing, On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"

"The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye, We shall escape the uphill by never turning back."

So they two went together in glowing August weather, The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right; And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seemed to float on The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

"Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven, Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"

"Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous, An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt."

"Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly, Their scent comes rich and sickly?"--"A scaled and hooded worm."

"Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"

"Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."

"Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest: This beaten way thou beatest I fear is h.e.l.l's own track."

"Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting: This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back."

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago.

Our G.o.d, Heaven cannot hold Him Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away When He comes to reign: In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord G.o.d Almighty Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him whom cherubim Worship night and day, A breastful of milk And a mangerful of hay; Enough for Him whom angels Fall down before, The ox and a.s.s and camel Which adore.

Angels and archangels May have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim Throng'd the air, But only His mother In her maiden bliss Worshipped her Beloved With a kiss.

What can I give Him, Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb, If I were a wise man I would do my part,-- Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart.