thee;

ing fair:

But all night as the moon SO

changeth she;

Loathsome and foul with hideous

leprosy,

And subtle serpents gliding in her

hair.

By day she woos me to the outer air,

Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety :

But thro' the night a beast she

grins at me,

A very monster void of love and

prayer.

she stands

In all the naked horror of the

truth,

With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands.

Is this a friend indeed, that I should sell

My soul to her, give her my life and youth,

Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

27 June 1854.

UNFORGOTTEN

O UNFORGOTTEN !

How long ago? one spirit saith.
As long as life even unto death,
The passage of a poor frail breath.

ZION SAID

O SLAIN for love of me, canst Thou be cold,

Be cold and far away in my distress?

Is Thy love also changed, growing less and less,

That carried me through all the days of old?

O Slain for love of me, O Love untold,

See how I flag and fail through weariness:

I flag, while sleepless foes dog me and press

On me behold, O Lord, O Love, behold!

I am sick for home, the home of love indeed

I am sick for Love, that dearest

Thy touch it was, Love's Pelican, Transformed him from above, And made him amongst men the man

To show forth holy love.

Yet shall I envy blessed John?

Nay not so verily,

While Thou indwellest as Thine own
Me, even me :
Upbuilding with Thy Manhood's
worth

My frail humanity;
Yea Thy Divinehood pouring forth,
In fullness filling me.

Me, Lord, Thy temple consecrate, Me unto Thee alone;

Within my heart set up Thy state

And mount Thy throne:

The Seraphim in ecstasy

Fall prone around Thy house, For which of them hath tasted Thee, My Manna and my Spouse?

Now Thou dost wear me for a robe And sway and warm me through, I scarce seem lesser than the globe,

Thy temple too.

O God, who dwellest in my heart,
My God who fillest me,
The broad immensity itself

Hath not encompassed Thee.
Circa 1855.

I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS

I AM pale with sick desire,

For my heart is far away
From this world's fitful fire
And this world's waning day;
In a dream it overleaps

A world of tedious ills
To where the sunshine sleeps

On the everlasting hills.