R. L. S. IN MEMORIAM THESE HESE to his Memory. May the Age arriving That bravest heart, that gay and gallant striving, Blithe and rare spirit! We who later linger Sigh for the touch of the Magician's finger,- 1901. A BALLAD OF INCAPACITY "My Lord, I cannot speak." -MACLEAN THE HIGHWAYMAN (on his trial). "SILENCE ILENCE is golden," saith the saw, For Speech, too oft, outrides the law Yet he, I think (of mortal mould!) Most needs the aid of "cheek," The man who can no tale unfold,— The man who cannot speak! He listens with a kind of awe, Is classed as either dull or cold,— He may have "Latin in his mawe," Unmatched by any scold; He may have thoughts of sterling gold For each day in the week; But he must all these things withhold,— The man who cannot speak. ENVOY. FRIENDS, 'tis of me the fable's told; In me that shameless sight behold,— 1901. "A VOICE IN THE SCENTED NIGHT" A (Villanelle at Verona) VOICE in the scented night, A step where the rose-trees blow, O Love, and O Love's delight! Cold star at the blue vault's height, She comes in her beauty bright, She comes in her young love's glow,- O Love, and O Love's delight! She bends from her casement white, A voice in the scented night. And he climbs by that stairway slight,- For it stirs us still in spite Of its "ever so long ago," That voice in the scented night,- 1902. A WELCOME FROM THE JOHNSON CLUB TO WILLIAM JOHN COURTHOPE, March 12, 1903 WHEN HEN POPE came back from Trojan wars He found a Bard, to meet him on the shore, You, SIR, have travelled from no distant clime, There is no need that I should tell in words This is my brief. We recognise in you |