SONG

Into that valley, where the hills abide

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But whence those morning clouds on noiseless

wheels

Shall lingering lift and, as the moonlight steals

From out the heavens, so into the heavens shall

glide.

I know thou art not this gray rock that looms
Above the water, fringed with scarlet vine;
Nor flame of burning meadow; nor the sedge
That
sways and trembles at the river's edge.

But through all these, dear heart! to me there comes
Some melancholy, absent look of thine.

XXII - THE LOVER'S LORD AND MASTER

I PRAY thee, dear, think not alone of me,

But sometimes think of my great master, LovE; His faithful slave he is so far above

That for his sake I would forgotten be

Tho' well I know that hidden thus from thee

Not far away my image then might rove,
And his sweet, heavenly countenance would move
Ever thy soul to gentler charity.

So when thy lover's self leaps from his song
Thou him may love not less for his fair Lord.
But that thy love for me grow never small
(As bow long bent twangs not the arrowed cord,
And he doth lose his star who looks too long),
Sometimes, dear heart, think not of me at all.

XXIII SONG

My love grew with the growing night,
And dawned with the new daylight.

XXIV - "A NIGHT OF STARS AND DREAMS”

A NIGHT of stars and dreams, of dreams and sleep; A waking into another empty day

But not unlovely all, for then I say:

"To-morrow!" Through the hours this light doth creep Higher in the heavens, as down the heavenly steep Sinks the slow sun. Another evening gray, Made glorious by the morn that comes that way; Another night, and then To-day doth leap Upon the world! O, quick the hours do fly, Of that new day which brings the moment when We meet at last! Swift up the shaking sky Rushes the sun from out its dismal den;

And then the wisht for time doth yearn more nigh; A white robe glimmering in the dark — and then!

XXV - A BIRTHDAY SONG

I THOUGHT this day to bring to thee
A flower that grows on the red rose tree.
I searched the branches O, despair!
Of roses every branch was bare.

I thought to sing thee a birthday song
As wild as my love, as deep and strong.
The song took wing like a frightened bird,
And its music my maiden never heard.

But, Love, the flower and the song divine
One day of the year will yet be thine;

And thou shalt be glad when the rose I bring,
And weep for joy at the song I sing.

THE SMILE OF HER I LOVE

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XXVI-"WHAT CAN LOVE DO FOR THEE,

LOVE?"

WHAT can love do for thee, Love?
Can it make the green fields greener;
Bluer the skies, and bluer

The eyes of the blue-eyed flowers?
Can it make the May-day showers
More warm and sweet; serener
The heavens after the rain?
The sunset's radiant splendor
More exquisite and tender?
The Northern Star more sure?
Can it take the pang from pain?
(O Love, remember the curtain
Of cloud that lifted last night
And showed the silver light

Of a star!) Can it make more certain

The heart of the heart of all,

The good that works at the root

The singing soul of love

That throbs in flower and fruit,

In man and earth and brute,
In hell, and heaven above?

Can its low voice musical

Make dear the day and the night?

XXVII-"THE SMILE OF HER I LOVE"

THE smile of her I love is like the dawn
Whose touch makes Memnon sing.

O, see where wide the golden sunlight flows-
The barren desert blossoms as the rose!

The smile of her I love

when that is gone,

O'er all the world Night spreads her shadowy wing.

XXVIII

FRANCESCA AND PAOLO

WITHIN the second dolorous circle where
The lost are whirled, lamenting - thou and I
Stood, Love, to-day with Dante. Silently
We looked upon the black and trembling air;
When lo! from out that darkness of despair

Two shadows, light upon the wind, drew nigh,
Whose very motion seemed to breathe a sigh
And there Francesca, and her lover there.
These when we saw, the wounds whereat they bled,
Their love which was not with their bodies slain
These when we saw, great were the tears we shed:
As, Love, for thee and me love's tears shall rain-
The mortal agony; the nameless dread;

The longing, and the passion, and the pain.

Two travelers met upon a plain

Where two straight, narrow pathways crossed;

They met and, with a still surprise,

They looked into each other's eyes

And knew that never, O, never again!
Could one from the other soul be lost.

But lo! these narrow pathways lead
Now each from each apart, and lo!
In neither pathway can they go
Together, in their new, strange need.

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THE SOWER

Far-off the purple mountains loom,

Vague and far-off, and fixt as fate, -
Which hide from sight that land unknown
Where, ever, like a carven stone

The setting sun doth stand and wait,
And men cry not: "Too late! too late!"
And sorrow turns to a golden gloom.
But O, the long journey all unled
By track of traveler o'er the plain
The stony desert, bleak and rude,
The bruised feet and the tired brain;
And O, the twofold solitude,

The doubt, the danger, and the dread!

XXX- THE SOWER

I

A SOWER went forth to sow;

His eyes were dark with woe;

He crusht the flowers beneath his feet,
Nor smelt the perfume, warm and sweet,
That prayed for pity everywhere.

He came to a field that was harried

By iron, and to heaven laid bare;

He shook the seed that he carried
O'er that brown and bladeless place.
He shook it, as God shakes hail
Over a doomèd land,

When lightnings interlace

The sky and the earth, and His wand

Of love is a thunder-flail.

Thus did that Sower sow;
His seed was human blood,

And tears of women and men.