Rest, rest, forevermore
Upon a mossy shore;

Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:

Sleep that no pain shall wake,

Night that no morn shall break,
Till joy shall overtake

Her perfect peace.

WHE

AT HOME.

HEN I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house I passed the door, and saw my friends

Feasting beneath green orange-boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested, and they laughed, For each was loved of each.

I listened to their honest chat :

Said one: 66 To-morrow we shall be Plod plod along the featureless sands, And coasting miles and miles of sea." Said one: "Before the turn of tide We will achieve the eyrie-seat." "To-morrow shall be like

Said one:

To-day, but much more sweet."

"To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
"To-morrow," cried they, one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away :

66

To-morrow and to-day," they cried;
I was of yesterday.

I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the table-cloth;
I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad

To stay, and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.

FROM SUNSET TO STAR RISE.

Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not:

I am no summer friend, but wintry cold,

A silly sheep benighted from the fold,
A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot.
Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot,

Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold; Lest you with me should shiver on the wold, Athirst and hungering on a barren spot.

For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge,

I live alone, I look to die alone:

Yet sometimes when a wind sighs through the sedge,
Ghosts of my buried years and friends come back,

My heart goes sighing after swallows flown
On sometime summer's unreturning track.

I

LOVE FROM THE NORTH.

HAD a love in soft south land,
Beloved through April far in May;

He waited on my lightest breath,
And never dared to say me nay.

He saddened if my cheer was sad,
gay he grew if I was gay;

But

We never differed on a hair,

My yes his yes, my nay his nay.

The wedding hour was come, the aisles

Were flushed with sun and flowers that day;

I pacing balanced in my thoughts,-
"It's quite too late to think of nay."

My bridegroom answered in his turn,
Myself had almost answered "yea":
When through the flashing nave I heard
A struggle and resounding "nay."

Bridemaids and bridegroom shrank in fear,

But I stood high who stood at bay: "And if I answer yea, fair Sir,

What man art thou to bar with nay?"

He was a strong man from the north,
Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray:
Put yea by for another time

In which I will not say thee nay."

He took me in his strong white arms,
He bore me on his horse away
O'er crag, morass, and hair-breadth pass,
But never asked me yea or nay.

He made me fast with book and bell,
With links of love he makes me stay;
Till now I've neither heart nor power
Nor will nor wish to say him nay.

E

WINTER RAIN.

VERY valley drinks,

Every dell and hollow:

Where the kind rain sinks and sinks,

Green of Spring will follow.

Yet a lapse of weeks

Buds will burst their edges,

Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks,

In the woods and hedges;

Weave a bower of love

For birds to meet each other,

Weave a canopy above

Nest and egg and mother.

But for fattening rain

We should have no flowers,
Never a bud or leaf again
But for soaking showers;

Never a mated bird

In the rocking tree-tops, Never indeed a flock or herd To graze upon the lea-crops.

Lambs so woolly white,

Sheep the sun-bright leas on,