FOR A CHARITY ANNUAL N Angel-Court the sunless air IN Grows faint and sick; to left and right The cowering houses shrink from sight, Huddled and hopeless, eyeless, bare. Misnamed, you say? For surely rare Nay! the Eternities are there. Death at the doorway stands to smite; Life in its garrets leaps to light; And Love has climbed that crumbling stair In Angel-Court. FOR A COPY OF "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD" Y GOLDSMITH's tomb the City's cry BY Grows faint and distant; now no more, From that famed street he trod of yore, Men turn where those old Templars lie! Only some dreamer such as I Pauses awhile from dust and roar By GOLDSMITH's tomb! And then-ah, then!-when none is nigh, What shadowy shapes, unseen before, Troop back again from Lethe's shore!How the ghosts gather then, and sigh By GOLDSMITH's tomb! AFTER A HOLIDAY THR HREE little ducks by a door, Snuggling aside in the sun; The sweep of a threshing floor, A flail with its One-two, One; A shaggy-haired, loose-limbed mare, A sunny-eyed, golden-haired lad, Why? From my window I see, Once more through the dust-dry pane, The sky like a great Dead Sea, And the lash of the London rain; And I read here in London town, Of a murder done at my gate, And a goodly ship gone down, And of homes made desolate; And I know, with the old sick heart, THE BALLAD OF THE BORE I [For Alma Mater's Mirror, 1887] "Garrulus hunc quando consumet cunque." -HOR. Sat. ix. lii. SEE him come from far, And, sick with hopelessness, Invoke some kindly star,— He knows nor let nor bar : I see him onward press; He stands- -as one on guard, |