Part 7 (1/2)

The Sleeper

There lay a man on clovered ground Whose life was death, he slept so sound; A child bent low to watch his eyes-- He smiling waked, and saw the skies.

I know a soul now, fast asleep, Whose dreams are sad: I hear him weep; I bend and gaze for pity's sake-- But all in vain; he will not wake.

Stars

O Kings and Queens, that in my happy heart, As in a royal chapel, warm and white, Ensanctuaried are! I come to-night Beneath the moonless sky--this radiant chart Of the unfathomable Heavens where dart Beam-trailing stars--with lamp of love alight Unto your images; my reverent sight Enfolds you, and I bring you each your part Of piety. The Will that guides each star Gave jewels to my hands I might not hold, Whose grace remembered fills my palm. So rest, O Joy-givers! your kingdoms are afar, Yet here I own you, shrined in pearls and gold, The sovereign captives of my loyal breast.

Trelawny's Grave

I know a garden near the gates of Rome Where Life and Death hold hands in silence; here In solemn shade where towering cypress rear Their green eternal, white as wind-led foam Lie scattered stones that s.h.i.+eld the final home Of exiles. Fair their bed; by violets dear And swaying roses decked; above them, clear In bluest glory arches Heaven's dome.

'Twas here my heart encountered peace one day Beside an old man's grave that said: If G.o.d Condemn you live beyond your friend, this way You too may rest.--The heart is childish; dread Of earth-loss fades before Trelawny dead Close-gathered to his Sh.e.l.ley in the sod.

V.R.I.

JANUARY 22, 1901.

As, in a house where solemn-footed Death Has trodden, all the little children stand Before a silent door, with quickened breath, Holding each other tightly by the hand--

So we, O Mother! at the keyless door Stand gathered, heart-astir with nameless fears: A strength has left the hour; the world before Was warmer; and we face the day with tears.

Lines on a Picture by Mary Gow

O whirling World! I know a corner still Unsoiled by Hate and Strife: Where hushed and gentle is the voice of Life: Where Time--a summer rill Soft-flowing through the gra.s.s--in measure slow Sings sweetly as we go.

Here is a room wherein the white day gleams: Silence o'er Peace has spread her pearly wings: A smiling woman reads of simple things: A child's blue eyes are blinded by their dreams....

To Serenity

Before a Madonna--by Botticelli.

Thine is the face our driven souls shall wear, O sweet serenity!--No earthly wind Can rend thine azure mantle now, nor tear Those veils that s.h.i.+eld the radiant locks they bind.