THE NORNS WATERING YGGDRASILL

(for a picture)

WITHIN the unchanging twilight
Of the high land of the gods,
Between the murmuring fountain
And the Ash-tree, tree of trees,
The Norns, the terrible maidens,
For evermore come and go.

Yggdrasill the populous Ash-tree,

Whose leaves embroider heaven, Fills all the gray air with music —

To Gods and to men sweet sounds, But speech to the fine-ear'd maidens Who evermore come and go.

That way to their doomstead thrones
The Aesir ride each day,
And every one bends to the saddle

As they pass beneath the shade ; Even Odin, the strong All-father, Bends to the beautiful maidens

Who cease not to come and go.

The tempest crosses the high boughs,
The great snakes heave below,
The wolf, the boar, and antler'd harts
Delve at the life-giving roots,
But all of them fear the wise maidens,
The wise-hearted water-bearers

Who evermore come and go.

And men far away, in the night-hours

To the north-wind listening, hear; They hear the howl of the were-wolf,

And know he hath felt the sting Of the eyes of the potent maidens

Who sleeplessly come and go.

They hear on the wings of the north-wind A sound as of three that sing;

And the skald, in the blae mist wandering
High on the midland fell,

Heard the very words of the o'ersong
Of the Norns who come and go.

But alas for the ears of mortals

Chance-hearing that fate-laden song! The bones of the skald lie there still : For the speech of the leaves of the Tree Is the song of the three Queen-maidens Who evermore come and go.

Be patient, O be patient! go and watch the wheat-ears grow,

So imperceptibly that ye can mark nor change nor throe:

Day after day, day after day till the ear is fully grown;

And then again day after day, till the ripen'd field is brown.

Be patient, O be patient! though yet our hopes are green,

The harvest-field of Freedom shall be crown'd with the sunny sheen.

Be ripening, be ripening! mature your silent way

Till the whole broad land is tongued with fire on Freedom's harvest day.

OUR CAUSE1

So, Freedom, thy great quarrel may we

serve,

With truest zeal that, sensitive of blame,
Ever thy holy banner would preserve
As pure as woman's love or knightly fame.

And though detraction's flood we proudly breast,

Or, weakening, sink in that unfathom'd sea,
Ever we 'll keep aloft our banner, lest
Even the black spray soil its purity.

My life be branded and my name be flung
To infamy;- beloved, I will wear
Thy beauty on my shield, till even the
tongue

Of falsehood echo truth, and own thee fair.

HEART AND WILL1

OUR England's heart is sound as oak ;
Our English will is firm;
And through our actions Freedom spoke
In history's proudest term:
When Blake was lord from shore to shore,
And Cromwell rul'd the land,
And Milton's words were shields of power
To stay the oppressor's hand.

Our England's heart is yet as sound,
As firm our English will;
And tyrants, be they cowl'd or crown'd,

Shall find us fearless still.

And though our Vane be in his tomb,
Though Hampden's blood is cold,

LOVE AND YOUTH

Two winged genii in the air
I greeted as they pass'd me by:
The one a bow and quiver bare,
The other shouted joyously.
Both I besought to stay their speed,
But never Love nor Youth had heed
Of my wild cry.

As swift and careless as the wind,
Youth fled, nor ever once look'd back ;
A moment Love was left behind,

But follow'd soon his fellow's track.
Yet loitering at my heart he bent
His bow, then smil'd with changed intent :
The string was slack.

TOO LATE

YES! thou art fair, and I had lov'd
If we in earlier hours had met ;
But ere tow'rd me thy beauty mov'd
The sun of Love's brief day had set.

Though I may watch thy opening bloom,
And its rich promise gladly see,
Twill not procrastinate my doom:
The ripen'd fruit is not for me.

Yet, had I shar'd thy course of years,
And young as Hope beheld thy charms,
The love that only now endears
Perchance had given thee to my arms.

Vain, vain regret! Another day Will kiss the buds of younger flowers, But ne'er will evening turn away From love untimelier than ours.

WEEP NOT! SIGH NOT!

WEEP not! tears must vainly fall,
Though they fall like rain:
Sorrow's flood shall not recall
Love's dear life again.
Vain thy tears,
Vain thy sobs;

As vain heart-throbs
Of lonely years

Since thou Love hast slain.

Sigh not! As a passed wind
Is but sought in vain,
Sighs nor groans may not unbind
Death's unbroken chain.
Sighs and tears
Nought avail,

Nor cheeks grown pale

In lonely years.

Love comes not again.