Volume 2.

CONTENTS:

DREAMS THE BRIDE THE WRAITH SURRENDER THE CITADEL MALFEASANCE ANNUNCIATION VANISHED DREAMS INTO THY LAND DIVIDED WE MUST LIVE ON YET LIFE IS SWEET LOST FOOTSTEPS THE CLOSED DOOR THE CHALICE MIO DESTINO I HAVE BEHELD TOO SOON AWAY THE TREASURE DAHIN LOVE'S USURY THE DECREE 'TIS MORNING NOW SACRIFICE SHINE ON SO, THOU ART GONE THE THOUSAND THINGS ONES THE SEA THE CHART REVEALING OVERCOMING WHITHER NOW ARARAT AS LIGHT LEAPS UP THE DARKENED WAY REUNITED SONG WAS GONE FROM ME GOOD WAS THE FIGHT UNCHANGED ABSOLVO TE BENEDICTUS THE MESSAGE UNAVAILING YOU SHALL LIVE ON "VEX NOT THIS GHOST" THE MEMORY THE PASSING ENVOY

DREAMS

And so life passed. I lived from year to year With shadows, the strong warders of desire; I learned through them to seek the golden fire That hides itself in Song's bright hemisphere.

Through them I grew full of imaginings, I made strange pictures, conjured images From my deep longings; wrote the passages Of life inwrought with half-glad wonderings.

For who can know a majesty of peace, That wanders, ever waiting for a voice To say to him, "Behold, at last surcease

Of thy unrest has come, therefore, rejoice"? Here set I down some dreams that come again, Almost forgotten in my higher gain.

THE BRIDE

A ship at sea; a port to anchor in; Not far a starry light upon the shore. The sheeted lightning, like a golden door, Swings to and fro to let earth-angels in.

Most bravely has she sailed o'er every sea, Withstood the storm-rack, spurned the sullen reef; Cherished her strength; and held her guerdon fief To him who saith, "My ship comes back to me!

Behold, I sent her forth a stately thing, To be my messenger to farthest lands, To Fortunate Isles, and where the silver sands

Girdle a summer sea; that she might bring My bride, who wist not that I loved her so— This is no bitter day for me, I trow!"

THE WRAITH

A ship in port; well-crossed the harbour-bar; The hawser swung, the grinding helm at rest; Hands clasping hands, and eyes with eager zest Seeking the loved, returning from afar.

And he, the master, holding little reck Of all, save but the idol of his soul, Seeks not his loving ardour to control. Mark how he proudly treads the whitened deck!

"My bride, my bride, my lone soul's best beloved, Come forth, come forth! Where art thou, Isobel?— Pallid, and wan! Lord, hath it thus befell

This is but dust; where has the spirit roved? O death-cold bride! for this, then, have I strove? O phantom ship, O loveless wraith of Love!"

SURRENDER

A day of sunshine in a land of snow, And a soft-curtained room, where ruddy flakes Of fame fall free, in liquid light that slakes The soft desire of one cold, paleface: lo,

Close-pressed sweet lips, and eyes of violet, That are filled up as with a sudden fear— A storm's prelude upon the expectant mere. Yet deep behind what never they forget,

Who ever see in life's chance or mischance. And he who saw, what could he do but say, "Fold up the tents; the camp is struck; away!

Vain victor who rides not in rest his lance!" Beside the hearthstone where the flame-flakes fell, There lay the cold keys of the citadel.

THE CITADEL

A night wind-swept and bound about with blee Of Erebus; all light and cheer within; White restless hands that falter, then begin To weave a music-voiced fantasy.

And life, and death, and love, and weariness, And unrequital, thrid the maze of sound; And one voice saith, "Behold, the lost is found!" And saith not any more for joyfulness.

Out of the night there comes a wanderer, Who waits upon the threshold, and is still; And listens, and bows down his head, until

His grief-drawn breath startles the heart of her. The victor vanquished, at her feet he fell, A prisoner in his conquered citadel.

MALFEASANCE

Two of one name; they standing where the sun Makes shadows in the orchard-bloom of spring; She holding in her palm a jewelled ring, He speaking on what evil it had done.

"Raise thy pale face and wondrous eyes to mine; Let not thy poor lips quiver in such pain; Too young and blindly thou hast drunk the wine Crushed from the lees of love. Be strong again.

Trail back thy golden hair from thy broad brow, And raise thy lily neck like some tall tower, That recks not any strife nor any hour,

So it but holds its height, heeding not how. The noblest find their way o'er paths of ire To the clear summit of God's full desire."

ANNUNCIATION

I think in that far time when Gabriel came And gave short speech to Mary sweet and wise, That when the faint fear faded from her eyes, And they were filled up with a sudden flame

Of joy bewildering and wonderment; With reverence the angel in her palm Laid one white lily, dewy with the balm Of the Lord's garden; saying: "This is sent

For thine espousal, thou the undefiled; And it shall bloom till all be consummate." Lo, then he passed. She, musing where she sate,

Felt all her being moved in manner wondrous mild; Then, laying 'gainst her bosom the white flower, She bowed her head, and said, "It is God's dower."

VANISHED DREAMS

Dreams, only dreams. They sprang from loneliness Of outer life; from innermost desire To reach the soul that now in golden fire Of cherished song I pray for and caress.

I wandered through the world with longing gaze, To find her who was my hope's parallel, That to her I might all my gospel tell Of changeless love, and bid her make appraise.

I knew that some day I should look within The ever-deepening distance of her eyes; For, in my dreams, from veiled Seraphim

Came one, as if in answer to my cries: And passing near me, pointed down the road That led me at the last to thy abode.

INTO THY LAND

Into thy land of sunlight I have come, And live within thy presence, as a ray Of light lives in the brightness of the day; And find in thee my heaven and my home.

Yet what am I that thou shouldst ope the gate Of thy most sweet completeness; and should spend Rich values of thy life on me thy friend, For which I have no worthy duplicate!

Nay, lady, I no riches have to give; I have no name of honour, or the pride Of place, to priv'lege me to sit beside

Thee in thy kingdom, where thy graces live. Wilt thou not one day whisper, "You have climbed Beyond your merits; pray you, fall behind"?

Wish thy friend joy of his journey, but pray in secret that he have no joy, for then may he return quickly to thee. —Egyptian Proverb.