To raise the earth from dead,
And set the heaven to singing.

"Oh, young," he said, " is she,
God's Maid and Queen, Marie;"
He said, "I will bring down
These golden trumpets blowing,
And lay them on her gown,

To glad her with their showing."

Queen Marie in her bower
Had a white lily in flower,
And Gabriel brought the gold,
The gold lily that ever
Blowing his trumpet bold,

Declares her praise for ever.

A TIRED HEART

Dear Lord! if one should some day come to Thee, Weary exceedingly, and poor, and worn,

With bleeding feet sore-pierced of many a thorn And lips athirst, and eyes too tired to see, And, falling down before Thy face, should say: "Lord, my day counts but as an idle day,

My hands have garnered fruit of no fair tree,
Empty am I of stores of oil and corn,
Broken am I and utterly forlorn,

Yet in Thy vineyard hast Thou room for me?"
Wouldst turn Thy face away?

Nay, Thou wouldst lift Thy lost sheep tenderly.

"Lord! Thou art pale, as one that travaileth,

And Thy wounds bleed where feet and hands were

riven;

Thou hast lain all these years, in balms of Heaven, Since Thou wert broken in the arms of Death,

And these have healed not!" "Child! be comforted. I trod the winepress where thy feet have bled; Yea, on the Cross, I cried with mighty breath, Thirsting for thee, whose love was elsewhere given, I, God, have followed thee from dawn to even, With yearning heart, by many a moor and heath, My sheep that wandered!

Now on My breast, Mine arm its head beneath."

Then, if this stricken one cried out to Thee,

"Now mine eyes see that Thou art passing fair, And Thy face marred of men beyond compare," And so should fall to weeping bitterly,

With, "Lord, I longed for other love than Thine, And my feet followed earthly lovers fine,

Turning from where Thy gaze entreated me;
Now these grow cold, and wander otherwhere,
And I, heart-empty, poor, and sick, and bare,
Loved of no lover, turn at last to Thee;"—

Wouldst stretch Thine hands divine,
And stroke the bowed head very pityingly?

"Will not My love suffice, though great thy pain?"
Ah, Lord! all night without a lighted house,
While some within held revel and carouse,
My lost heart wandered in the wind and rain,
And moaned unheard amid the tempest's din."
"Peace, peace! if one had oped to let thee in,
Perchance this hour were lost for that hour's gain;
Wouldst thou have sought Me then, with thy new

Vows?

Ah, child! I too, with bleeding feet and brows, Knocked all the night at a heart's door in vain, And saw the dawn begin,

On My gold head the dews have left a stain."

HERBERT P. HORNE

Born 1864

AMICO SUO

When on my country walks I go,

I never am alone:

Though, whom 'twere pleasure then to know,

Are gone, and you are gone;

From every side discourses flow.

There are rich counsels in the trees,
And converse in the air;

All magic thoughts in those and these
And what is sweet and rare;

And everything that living is.

But most I love the meaner sort,

For they have voices too;

Yet speak with tongues that never hurt,
As ours are apt to do:

The weeds, the grass, the common wort.

ARTHUR SYMONS

Born 1865

RAIN ON THE DOWN

Night, and the down by the sea,

And the veil of rain on the down;

And she came through the mist and the rain to me From the safe warm lights of the town.

The rain shone in her hair,

And her face gleamed in the rain;
And only the night and the rain were there
As she came to me out of the rain.

EMMY

Emmy's exquisite youth and her virginal air, Eyes and teeth in the flash of a musical smile, Come to me out of the past, and I see her there As I saw her once for a while.