But I have not often smiled

Since then, nor questioned since, Nor cared for corn-flowers wild, Nor sung with the singing bird.

I take my heart in my hand,
O my God, O my God,
My broken heart in my hand:
Thou hast seen, judge Thou.
My hope was written on sand,
O my God, O my God:
Now let Thy judgment stand-
Yea, judge me now.

This contemned of a man,

This marred one heedless day, This heart take Thou to scan

Both within and without: Refine with fire its gold,

Purge Thou its dross away— Yea, hold it in Thy hold,

Whence none can pluck it out.

I take my heart in my hand-
I shall not die, but live-
Before Thy face I stand;

I, for Thou callest such :
All that I have I bring,

All that I am I give,

Smile Thou and I shall sing,

But shall not question much

HEAR

MY DREAM.

[EAR now a curious dream I dreamed last night, Each word whereof is weighed and sifted truth

I stood beside Euphrates while it swelled
Like overflowing Jordan in its youth:
It waxed and coloured sensibly to sight,
Till out of myriad pregnant waves there welled
Young crocodiles, a gaunt blunt-featured crew,
Fresh-hatched perhaps and daubed with birthday dew.
The rest if I should tell, I fear my friend,
My closest friend, would deem the facts untrue;
And therefore it were wisely left untold;
Yet if you will, why, hear it to the end.

Each crocodile was girt with massive gold And polished stones that with their wearers grew : But one there was who waxed beyond the rest, Wore kinglier girdle and a kingly crown,

Whilst crowns and orbs and sceptres starred his breast
All gleamed compact and green with scale on scale,
But special burnishment adorned his mail

And special terror weighed upon his frown;
His punier brethren quaked before his tail,
Broad as a rafter, potent as a flail.

So he grew lord and master of his kin:

But who shall tell the tale of all their woes?

An execrable appetite arose,

He battened on them, crunched, and sucked them in

He knew no law, he feared no binding law,

But ground them with inexorable jaw :
The luscious fat distilled upon his chin,
Exuded from his nostrils and his eyes,
While still like hungry death he fed his maw;
Till every minor crocodile being dead.

And buried too, himself gorged to the full,
He slept with breath oppressed and unstrung claw.
Oh marvel passing strange which next I saw :
In sleep he dwindled to the common size,
And all the empire faded from his coat.
Then from far off a wingèd vessel came,
Swift as a swallow, subtle as a flame:
I know not what it bore of freight or host,
But white it was as an avenging ghost.
It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;
Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote
It seemed to tame the waters without force
Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:
Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,
The prudent crocodile rose on his feet
And shed appropriate tears and wrung his hands.

What can it mean? you ask. I answer not
For meaning, but myself must echo, What?
And tell it as I saw it on the spot.

SONGS IN A CORNFIELD.

A

SONG in a cornfield

Where corn begins to fall, Where reapers are reaping, Reaping one, reaping all. Sing pretty Lettice,

Sing Rachel, sing May; Only Marian cannot sing

While her sweetheart's away.

Where is he gone to

And why does he stay?
He came across the green sea
But for a day,

Across the deep green sea

To help with the hay. His hair was curly yellow And his eyes were grey, He laughed a merry laugh And said a sweet say. Where is he gone to

That he comes not home?

To-day or to-morrow

He surely will come.

Let him haste to joy

Lest he lag for sorrow

For one weeps to-day

Who'll not weep to-morrow:

To-day she must weep

For gnawing sorrow, To-night she may sleep

And not wake to-morrow.

May sang with Rachel

In the waxing warm weather, Lettice sang with them,

They sang all together :

"Take the wheat in your arm
Whilst day is broad above,
Take the wheat to your bosom.
But not a false false love
Out in the fields

Summer heat gloweth,

Out in the fields

Summer wind bloweth,

Out in the fields

Summer friend showeth,

Out in the fields

Summer wheat groweth ;

But in the winter

When summer heat is dead And summer wind has veered

And summer friend has fled, Only summer wheat remaineth, White cakes and bread.

Take the wheat, clasp the wheat

That's food for maid and dove: Take the wheat to your bosom,

But not a false false love."