Shall find performed thy special ministry, And time come for departure, thou, suspending Thy flight, may'st see another child for tending, Another still to quiet and retrieve. II Then I shall feel thee step one step, no more, With those wings, white above the child who prays Now on that tomb-and I shall feel thee guarding Me, out of all the world ; for me, discarding Yon heaven thy home, that waits and opes its door. III I would not look up thither past thy head Because the door opes, like that child, I know, Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low Me, as thy lamb there, with thy garment's spread? IV If this was ever granted, I would rest My head beneath thine, while thy healing hands Close-covered both my eyes beside thy breast, Pressing the brain which too much thought expands, Back to its proper size again, and smoothing Distortion down till every nerve had soothing, And all lay quiet, happy and suppressed. V How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired! O world, as God has made it! All is beauty: VI Guercino drew this angel I saw teach (Alfred, dear friend!)—that little child to pray, Holding the little hands up, each to each Pressed gently, with his own head turned away Over the earth where so much lay before him Of work to do, though heaven was opening o'er him, And he was left at Fano by the beach. VII We were at Fano, and three times we went -My angel with me too and since I care VIII And since he did not work thus earnestly At all times, and has else endured some wrongI took one thought his picture struck from me, And spread it out, translating it to song. My love is here. Where are you, dear old friend? How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end? This is Ancona, yonder is the sea. EVELYN HOPE. I BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the glass; Little has yet been changed, I think : The shutters are shut, no light may pass Save t'vo long rays thro' the hinge's chink. II Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; Till God's hand beckoned unawares,— III Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope? And our paths in the world diverged so wide, Each was nought to each, must I be told? IV No, indeed! for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few: Much is to learn, much to forget Ere the time be come for taking you. V But the time will come, at last it will, When, Evelyn Hope, what meant (I shall say) In the lower earth, in the years long still, That body and soul so pure and gay? Why your hair was amber, I shall divine, And your mouth of your own geranium's red— And what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead. VI I have lived (I shall say) so much since then, Gained me the gains of various men, Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes ; Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope, Either I missed or itself missed me: And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope! What is the issue? let us see! VII I loved you, Evelyn, all the while! My heart seemed full as it could hold ; There was place and to spare for the frank young smile, And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold. So hush,-I will give you this leaf to keep : See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand! There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand. MEMORABILIA. I AH, did you once see Shelley plain, II But you were living before that, III I crossed a moor, with a name of its own IV For there I picked up on the heather APPARENT FAILURE. "We shall soon lose a celebrated building." I Paris Newspaper. No, for I 'll save it! Seven years since, |