Garden and goal and nest! Made green for wearied eyes; Much softer than the breast Of mother-dove clad in a rainbow's dyes. "All precious souls are there Most safe, elect by grace, All tears are wiped forever from their face : Untired in prayer They wait and praise, Hidden for a little space. "Boughs of the Living Vine, They spread in summer shine Green leaf with leaf: Sap of the Royal Vine, it stirs like wine In all both less and chief. "Sing to the Lord, All spirits of all flesh, sing; For He hath not abhorred Our low estate nor scorned our offering: "But Zion said: My Lord forgetteth me. In dust; forsaken weepeth she "She laid her body as the ground, Her tender body as the ground to those Who passed; her harpstrings cannot sound In a strange land; discrowned She sits, and drunk with woes." "O drunken not with wine, Whose sins and sorrows have fulfilled the sum, Be not afraid, arise, be no more dumb; The prophet saw such clothed with flesh and skin; Hasten the time, O Lord, blot out their sin, SWEET DEATH. HE sweetest blossoms die. THE And so it was that, going day by day And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully, The youngest blossoms die. They die and fall and nourish the rich earth The bright hues vanish and the odors fly, And youth and beauty die. So be it, O my God, Thou God of truth: Are Saints and Angels, a glad company; And Thou, O Lord, our Rest and Ease, Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why SYMBOLS. I WATCHED a rosebud very long Brought on by dew and sun and shower, Waiting to see the perfect flower : Then, when I thought it should be strong, And fell at even-song. I watched a nest from day to day, A green nest full of pleasant shade, But when they should have hatched in May, Then in my wrath I broke the bough But the dead branch spoke from the sod, CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD. 95 "CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD.” F 'LOWERS preach to us if we will hear : The rose saith in the dewy morn, I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born The poppy saith amid the corn: Of humble lessons we would read. But not alone the fairest flowers: The merest grass Along the roadside where we pass, To nourish one small seed. |