Soul and Body. WHERE Wert thou, Soul, ere yet my body born Didst thou in sorrow enter, or in mirth? Nay, Soul, I will not mock thee; well I know A Pipe of Carved Olive-Wood. I. WITH flowers chased and filigree Of leaves around the bowl and stem, II. Haply in Kedron's rocky dell, By steep Siloam's limpid well This olive-wood erst drank the dew; III. Nay, where the oaks of Mamre gleam Down that wide glen where Hebron lies, And of past glory loves to dream As from its tower the daylight dies, There haply Rachel plucked the fruit IV. When from the carven bowl arise Thick clouds of incense round my head, Strange visions mount before mine eyesA resurrection of the dead Of dynasties long past and gone, V. I see the creeds and systems pass They go, and they return no more; VI. O antique world, so calm, so still! While mute the Sphinx sat watching near And Life and Death remained for thee A dark, an unsolved mystery. VII. Not Cæsar and not Pharaoh now In Egypt, or in Rome, abide ; Gone, gone for ever from each brow The conqueror's wreath, the victor's pride Yet still the Night brings back the dawn To heath-clad hill and dewy lawn. VIII. And children where the lilies blow Are blithe amid the buds of May; And still the Hebrew maidens go With fisher-lads at close of day Where gnarled olives glimmer yet By Jordan and Gennesaret. The Beaten Track. NAY, with no harshness name the simple soul As he who lingers in low, sheltered spaces, Nor mounts to danger on the mountain-side, In safety dwells where the still waters glide; So they in peace shall haunt life's hallowed places, Whose steadfast hearts in one belief abideWhose primal faith no tide of doubt effaces. |