THE GUARDIAN-ANGEL. A PICTURE AT FANO. I. DEAR and great Angel, wouldst thou only leave Shall find performed thy special ministry, 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, For I should have thy gracious face instead, Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low Like him, and lay, like his, my hands together, And lift them up to pray, and gently tether 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! VI. 1 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 For dear Guercino's fame (to which in power VIII. And since he did not work thus earnestly At all times, and has else endured some wrong-I 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! Little has yet been changed, I think : II. Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; It was not her time to love; beside, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till God's hand beckoned unawares,- III. Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope? And, just because I was thrice as old And our paths in the world diverged so wide, Each was nought to each, must I be told? We were fellow mortals, nought beside? IV. No, indeed for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love: I claim you still, for my own love's sake! Delayed it may be for more lives yet, 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 redAnd 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; |