"In her hand she held a flower, SONG. O MOONLIGHT deep and tender, O elm-leaves dark and dewy, O river, dim with distance, O stars, ye saw our meeting, O happy night, deliver Her kisses back to me, And a heart-tremble quivers through the | We live and love, well knowing that deep; And, joyful, once again their song awake, Long silent now with melancholy scorn; And thou, not mindless of so blest a morn, By no least deed its harmony shalt break, there is No backward step for those who feel the bliss Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high: Love hath so purified my being's core, Meseems I scarcely should be startled, even, To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before; Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was given, Which each calm day doth strengthen more and more, That they who love are but one step from Heaven. X. I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass away, Whose life to mine is an eternal law, About the Sun of Life, and art to live But rather raised to be a nobler man, But shalt to that high chime thy foot-As knowing that the waiting eyes which And more divine in my humanity, steps take, Through life's most darksome passes unforlorn; Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall, Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free, And in thine every motion musical IX. My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die ; Albeit I ask no fairer life than this, Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss, While Time and Peace with hands enlocked fly, Yet care I not where in Eternity scan My life are lighted by a purer being, And ask meek, calm-browed deeds, with it agreeing. XI. THERE never yet was flower fair in vain, Let classic poets rhyme it as they will; The seasons toil that it may blow again, And summer's heart doth feel its every ill; Nor is a true soul ever born for naught; Wherever any such hath lived and died, There hath been something for true freedom wrought, Some bulwark levelled on the evil side: Toil on, then, Greatness! thou art in the right, However narrow souls may call thee wrong; Be as thou wouldst be in thine own clear sight, And so thou shalt be in the world's erelong; For worldlings cannot, struggle as they may, From man's great soul one great thought hide away. XII. SUB PONDERE CRESCIT. THE hope of Truth grows stronger, day by day; XIV. ON READING WORDSWORTH'S SONNETS IN DEFENCE OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. As the broad ocean endlessly upheaveth, With the majestic beating of his heart, The mighty tides, whereof its rightful part Each sea-wide bay and little weed receiveth, So, through his soul who earnestly believeth, I hear the soul of Man around me wak-Life from the universal Heart doth flow, Whereby some conquest of the eternal Woe, ing, Like a great sea, its frozen fetters breaking, And flinging up to heaven its sunlit spray, Tossing huge continents in scornful play, And crushing them, with din of grind. ing thunder, That makes old emptinesses stare in wonder; The memory of a glory passed away Lingers in every heart, as, in the shell, Resounds the bygone freedom of the sea, And every hour new signs of promise tell, By instinct of God's nature, he achieveth: A fuller pulse of this all-powerful beauty Into the poet's gulf-like heart doth tide, And he more keenly feels the glorious duty Of serving Truth, despised and crucified, Happy, unknowing sect or creed, to rest, And feel God flow forever through his breast. FAR 'yond this narrow parapet of Time, With eyes uplift, the poet's soul should look Into the Endless Promise, nor should brook One prying doubt to shake his faith sublime; To him the earth is ever in her prime And dewiness of morning; he can see Good lying hid, from all eternity, Within the teeming womb of sin and crime; His soul should not be cramped by any bar, His nobleness should be so Godlike high, That his least deed is perfect as a star, His common look majestic as the sky, And all o'erflooded with a light from far, Undimmed by clouds of weak mortality. |