There by day the lark is singing

And the grass and weeds are springing;
There by night the bat is winging;

There forever winds are bringing
Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing.

Night and morning, noon and even,
Their sound fills her dreams with Heaven:
The long strife at length is striven:
Till her grave-bands shall be riven

Such is the good portion given

To her soul at rest and shriven.

SONG.

S

HE sat and sang alway

By the

green margin of a stream,

Watching the fishes leap and play

Beneath the glad sunbeam.

I sat and wept alway

Beneath the moon's most shadowy beam,

Watching the blossoms of the May

Weep leaves into the stream.

I wept for memory;

She sang for hope that is so fair : My tears were swallowed by the sea; Her songs died on the air.

W

SONG.

HEN I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress-tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

A

DEAD BEFORE DEATH.

SONNET.

H! changed and cold, how changed and very cold! With stiffened smiling lips and cold calm eyes : Changed, yet the same; much knowing, little wise; This was the promise of the days of old!

Grown hard and stubborn in the ancient mould,
Grown rigid in the sham of lifelong lies:

We hoped for better things as years would rise,
But it is over as a tale once told.

All fallen the blossom that no fruitage bore,

All lost the present and the future time, All lost, all lost, the lapse that went before: So lost till death shut-to the opened door, So lost from chime to everlasting chime, So cold and lost forever evermore.

S

BITTER FOR SWEET.

UMMER is gone with all its roses,

Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers,
Its warm air and refreshing showers:
And even Autumn closes.

Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going,
And winter comes which is yet colder;
Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder

And the last buds cease blowing.

"THE MASTER IS COME, AND CALLETH

FOR THEE."

HO calleth? - Thy Father calleth,

WHO

Run, O Daughter, to wait on Him:
He Who chasteneth but for a season
Trims thy lamp that it burn not dim.

Who calleth? Thy Master calleth,
Sit, Disciple, and learn of Him:
He Who teacheth wisdom of Angels
Makes thee wise as the Cherubim.

Who calleth? - Thy Monarch calleth,
Rise, O Subject, and follow Him:
He is stronger than Death or Devil,
Fear not thou if the foe be grim.

Who calleth? - Thy Lord God calleth,
Fall, O Creature, adoring Him:

He is jealous, thy God Almighty,
Count not dear to thee life or limb.

Who calleth? - Thy Bridegroom calleth,
Soar, O Bride, with the Seraphim:
He Who loves thee as no man loveth,
Bids thee give up thy heart to Him.

REST.

SONNET.

EARTH, lie heavily upon her eyes;

Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,

Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth
Of all that irked her from the hour of birth;
With stillness that is almost Paradise.
Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,
Silence more musical than any song;

Even her very heart has ceased to stir :
Until the morning of Eternity

Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;

And when she wakes she will not think it long.

I

THE FIRST SPRING DAY.

WONDER if the sap is stirring yet,

If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing, robin, sing!

I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.