Part 8 (2/2)

Have our two notes not mingled in one chord?

What ails us? Were we joined this earthly while, You would not love me better than you do, Nor in my heart be otherwise adored.

XI

Without, you seem forgotten. Am I sad Or happy? None can tell. The lonely days Recur, and draw me on the beaten ways Of all who strive and toil. The things I had Remain; all daily happenings, good or bad, Fall as they did: success and loss, delays That sweeten victory: the balance sways Unceasingly, makes heavy, or makes glad.

And this is life, such as the world demands.

Within, 'tis otherwise; for in the far Depths where my soul recoiled sits, there are No echoes of such wisdom; there my hands Are folded, and in yours: I seek your eyes, Your voice, your smile.... Within, 'tis otherwise.

THE OPEN AIR

Suns.h.i.+ne in February

O winter Sun!

How beautiful thy beams Upon the chained earth!

The snows are melting and the gale Is hushed; thou s.h.i.+nest, soft and pale, O Winter Sun!

Upon a world that dreams, And trembles with awakened hopes of birth.

O Joyful Green!

'Mid snowy patches gay Thou peerest, and the sky s.h.i.+nes blue through twigged boughs; each tree Is aching now with thoughts of thee, O Joyful Green!

Spring's heart is in the day Though Winter's hands upon night's bosom lie.

_Fairseat._

The Cuckoo

Sing, cuckoo, sing, Dear herald of the Spring!

Minstrels in all ages born, Hearing thee on such a morn-- When the cowslips all around Waft their fragrance from the ground, And the blossom of the pear Quivers white in bluest air-- Such as I, in all the ages Thus have covered rapturous pages With thy praise, O loveliest bird Ear of man has ever heard!

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