Volume I Part 65 (2/2)

Ay, he has travelled whither A winged pilot steered his bark Through the portals of the dark, Past h.o.a.ry Mimir's well and tree, Across the unknown sea.

Suddenly, in his fair young hour, Came one who bore a flower, And laid it in his dimpled hand With this command: ”Henceforth thou art a rover!

Thou must make a voyage far, Sail beneath the evening star, And a wondrous land discover.”

--With his sweet smile innocent Our little kinsman went.

Since that time no word From the absent has been heard.

Who can tell How he fares, or answer well What the little one has found Since he left us, outward bound?

Would that he might return!

Then should we learn From the p.r.i.c.king of his chart How the skyey roadways part.

Hus.h.!.+ does not the baby this way bring, To lay beside this severed curl, Some starry offering Of chrysolite or pearl?

Ah, no! not so!

We may follow on his track, But he comes not back.

And yet I dare aver He is a brave discoverer Of climes his elders do not know.

He has more learning than appears On the scroll of twice three thousand years, More than in the groves is taught, Or from furthest Indies brought; He knows, perchance, how spirits fare,-- What shapes the angels wear, What is their guise and speech In those lands beyond our reach,-- And his eyes behold Things that shall never, never be to mortal hearers told.

Edmund Clarence Stedman [1833-1908]

A CHRYSALIS

My little Madchen found one day A curious something in her play, That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed; It was not anything that grew, Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew; Had neither legs nor wings, indeed; And yet she was not sure, she said, Whether it was alive or dead.

She brought in her tiny hand To see if I would understand, And wondered when I made reply, ”You've found a baby b.u.t.terfly.”

”A b.u.t.terfly is not like this,”

With doubtful look she answered me.

So then I told her what would be Some day within the chrysalis; How, slowly, in the dull brown thing Now still as death, a spotted wing, And then another, would unfold, Till from the empty sh.e.l.l would fly A pretty creature, by and by, All radiant in blue and gold.

”And will it, truly?” questioned she-- Her laughing lips and eager eyes All in a sparkle of surprise-- ”And shall your little Madchen see?”

”She shall! I said. How could I tell That ere the worm within its sh.e.l.l Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread, My little Madchen would be dead?

To-day the b.u.t.terfly has flown,-- She was not here to see it fly,-- And sorrowing I wonder why The empty sh.e.l.l is mine alone.

Perhaps the secret lies in this: I too had found a chrysalis, And Death that robbed me of delight Was but the radiant creature's flight!

Mary Emily Bradley [1835-1898]

MATER DOLOROSA

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