DE PROFUNDIS You must be troubled, Asthore, The mass-bell shall be rung, You went away when you heard The red cock's clarion crow. You have given my heart a sword, You have given my life a woe, I, who your burden bore, On whom your sorrows fell; The mass-bell shall be rung, SINGING STARS "WHAT Sawest thou, Orion, thou hunter of the star-lands, On that night star-sown and azure when thou cam'st in splendor sweeping, And amid thy starry brethren from the near lands and the far lands All the night above a stable on the earth thy watch wert keeping?" "Oh, I saw the stable surely, and the young Child and the Mother, And the placid beasts still gazing with their mild eyes full of loving. And I saw the trembling radiance of the Star, my lordliest brother, Light the earth and all the heavens as he kept his guard unmoving. "There were kings that came from Eastward with their ivory, spice, and sendal, With gold fillets in their dark hair, and gold broidered robes and stately, And the shepherds, gazing star-ward, over yonder hill did wend all, And the silly sheep went meekly, and the wise dog marvelled greatly. "Oh we knew, we stars, the stable held our King, His glory shaded, That His baby hands were poising all the spheres and constellations; Berenice shook her hair down, like a shower of stardust braided, And Arcturus, pale as silver, bent his brows in adorations. "The stars sang all together, sang their love-songs with the angels, With the Cherubim and Seraphim their shrilly trumpets blended. They have never sung together since that night of great evangels, And the young Child in the manger, and the time of bondage ended.' THE SAD MOTHER O WHEN the half-light weaves I sit and hold my breath, Lone in the lonely house; Naught breaks the silence still as death, Only a creeping mouse. The patter of leaves, it may be, But liker patter of feet, The small feet of my own baby That never felt the heat. The small feet of my son, Cold as the graveyard sod; My little, dumb, unchristened one That may not win to God. "Come in, dear babe," I cry, Opening the door so wide. The leaves go stealing softly by ; How dark it is outside! And though I kneel and pray Long on the threshold-stone, The little feet press on their way, And I am ever alone. THE DEAD COACH AT night when sick folk wakeful lie, Click-clack, click-clack, the hoofs went past, If one might follow on its track God pity them to-night who wait The mournful dead coach stop for him. He shall go down with a still face, Click-clack, click-clack, the hour is chill, Map Kendall A PURE HYPOTHESIS (A Lover, in Four-dimensioned space, describes a Dream.) Aн, love, the teacher we decried, In mathematics drenched and dyed, He said: "The bounds of Time and Space, May be in quite another case In quite another sphere." He told us: "Science can conceive A race whose feeble comprehension Can't be persuaded to believe That there exists our Fourth Dimension, Whom Time and Space for ever balk; But of these beings incomplete, Whether upon their heads they walk Or stand upon their feet — "We cannot tell, we do not know, To every theory propounded." Ah, what if on some lurid star There should exist a hapless race, Who live and love, who think and are, In Three-dimensioned Space! A BOARD SCHOOL PASTORAL ALONE I stay; for I am lame, Of all the maidens in the place, Her eyes are clearest. Of all the girls, or here or there, 'Tis Ella's voice is soft and rare, And Ella has the darkest hair, And Ella's dearest. Oh, strong the lads for bat or ball, The master praises. The master's mien is grave and wise; My heart, that o'er the schoolroom flies, And Hal's below me every day; He loves not learning. But when the swiftest runners meet, Oh, who but Hal is proud and fleet, And there's a smile I know will greet His glad returning. They call me moody, dull, and blind, They say with books I maze my mind, The lads and lasses; - But little do they know- ah me! How with my book upon my knee I dream and dream, but ever see Where Ella passes. A LEGEND Ay, an old story, yet it might Have truth in it - who knows? Of the heroine's breaking down one night Jnst ere the curtain rose. And suddenly, when fear and doubt But oh the magic of her face, But she never stooped: they lay all night And left them—and the saddest light She gave a smile in glancing round, But the old prompter, gray and frail, "It only could be Meg Coverdale, "In that old part who took the town ; As when they shut the coffin down "And it was n't hard to understand Could never rest in the Promised Land |