A BIRD SONG.

IT'S a year almost that I have not seen her: Oh last summer green things were greener Brambles fewer, the blue sky bluer.

It's surely summer, for there's a swallow:
Come one swallow, his mate will follow,
The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.

Oh happy swallow whose mate will follow
O'er height, o'er hollow! I'd be a swallow,
To build this weather one nest together.

A

A SMILE AND A SIGH.

SMILE because the nights are short!
And every morning brings such pleasure

Of sweet love-making, harmless sport:
Love that makes and finds its treasure;
Love, treasure without measure.

A sigh because the days are long!

Long long these days that pass in sighing, A burden saddens every song:

While time lags which should be flying,
We live who would be dying.

I

ONE DAY.

WILL tell you when they met :
In the limpid days of Spring;
Elder boughs were budding yet,
Oaken boughs looked wintry still,
But primrose and veined violet
In the mossful turf were set,

While meeting birds made haste to sing
And build with right good will.

I will tell you when they parted.

When plenteous Autumn sheaves were brown Then they parted heavy-hearted;

The full rejoicing sun looked down

As grand as in the days before;

Only they had lost a crown;
Only to them those days of yore
Could come back nevermore.

When shall they meet? I cannot tell,
Indeed, when they shall meet again,
Except some day in Paradise:

For this they wait, one waits in pain.
Beyond the sea of death love lies
For ever, yesterday, to-day;

Angels shall ask them, "Is it well?"
And they shall answer "Yea."

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.

THE CONVENT THRESHOLD.

THERE'S blood between us, love, my love.

There's father's blood, there's brother's blood;

And blood's a bar I cannot pass :

I choose the stairs that mount above,

Stair after golden skyward stair,

To city and to sea of glass.

My lily feet are soiled with mud,
With scarlet mud which tells a tale
Of hope that was, of guilt that was,
Of love that shall not yet avail;
Alas, my heart, if I could bare
My heart, this selfsame stain is there:
I seek the sea of glass and fire
To wash the spot, to burn the snare;
Lo, stairs are meant to lift us higher
Mount with me, mount the kindled stair.

Your eyes look earthward, mine look up.
I see the far-off city grand,

Beyond the hills a watered land,
Beyond the gulf a gleaming strand
Of mansions where the righteous sup;
Who sleep at ease among their trees,
Or wake to sing a cadenced hymn
With Cherubim and Seraphim;

They bore the Cross, they drained the cup,

Racked, roasted, crushed, wrenched limb from limb.

They the offscouring of the world:

The heaven of starry heavens unfurled,

The sun before their face is dim.

You looking earthward, what see you? Milk-white, wine-flushed among the vines, Up and down leaping, to and fro,

Most glad, most full, made strong with wines,

Blooming as peaches pearled with dew,
Their golden windy hair afloat,
Love-music warbling in their throat,
Young men and women come and go.

You linger, yet the time is short:
Flee for your life, gird up your strength
To flee; the shadows stretched at length
Show that day wanes, that night draws nigh;
Flee to the mountain, tarry not.

Is this a time for smile and sigh,
For songs among the secret trees

Where sudden blue birds nest and sport?
The time is short and yet you stay :
To-day, while it is called to-day,

Kneel, wrestle, knock, do violence, pray;

To-day is short, to-morrow nigh:
Why will you die? why will you die?

You sinned with me a pleasant sin:
Repent with me, for I repent.
Woe's me the lore I must unlearn!
Woe's me that easy way we went,
So rugged when I would return!
How long until my sleep begin,

How long shall stretch these nights and days?
Surely, clean Angels cry, she prays;

She laves her soul with tedious tears :

How long must stretch these years and years?