66 At the mercy of a gale, Of a breath? Yet so sweet and perfect pale, Still so sweet in life and death." Maiden May sat in her bower, Made one bristling branch the tower Gay and clear the linnet trills ; Yet the skylark only, thrills Heaven and earth When he breasts the height, and fills Height and depth with song and mirth. Nightingales which yield to night Reign alone: But the lark for all his height "While he sings, a hundred sing; Wing their flight below his wing Yet in flight; Each a lovely joyful thing To the measure of its delight. Why then should a lark be reckoned One alone, without a second He in skyward flight unslackened, Maiden May sat in her bower ; Half in sunshine, half in shower, In the year's most tender time. Her own thoughts in silent song Wistful, wondering, weak or strong: Other thoughts another day, Maiden May, will surge and sway Wake, and plead, and turn at bay, Time not far remote will borrow All for you; Not to-day, and yet to-morrow Reasoning false and reasoning true. Wherefore greatest? Wherefore least? Hearts that starve and hearts that feast? You and I? Stammering Oracles have ceased, And the whole earth stands at "why?" Underneath all things that be Spreads a veil impenetrably, Mystery of mysteries: This creation hears and sees High and low Vanity of vanities: This we test and this we know. Maiden May, the days of flowering Bright with rainbows all the showering, Close the inlet of your bower, Close it close with thorn and flower, Lengthen out the shortening hour,- Stay to-day which wanes too soon, Bask you in the actual noon, Rest you in the present truth. Let to-day suffice to-day : For itself to-morrow may Fetch its loss, Aim and stumble, say its say, Watch and pray and bear its cross. TILL TO-MORROW. LONG have I longed, till I am tired Of longing and desire; Farewell my points in vain desired, Farewell all things that die and fail and tire. Springtide and youth and useless pleasure My hopes of unattainable treasure, Dreams not worth dreaming, Glow-worms that gleam but yield no warmth in gleaming, Farewell all shows that fade in showing: Through cloudy cover, Beyond all clouds loves me my Heavenly Lover. THE DEATH-WATCHES. HE Spring spreads one green lap of flowers No chilling showers of Autumn hours Can stay them or recall; Winds sing a dirge, while earth lays out of sight Her garment of delight. The cloven East brings forth the sun, The cloven West doth bury him A funeral moon is lit in heaven's hollow, TOUCHING "NEVER." BECAUSE you never yet have loved me, dear, Think you you never can nor ever will? Surely while life remains hope lingers still, Hope the last blossom of life's dying year. |