III.

For you and I are far apart;

And never may we meet,

Till you are glad and grand, Sweetheart,
Till I am fair and sweet.

Till morning-light has kissed us white
As highest Alpine snow,

Till both are brave and bright of sight, -
Go wander high or low,
Sweetheart:

For God will have it so.

IV.

Oh, Heaven and Earth are far apart!
If you are bond or free,

And if you climb or crawl, Sweetheart,
Can no way hinder me.

But see you come in lordly state,

With mountain winds a-glow, When I, by dazzling gate shall wait, To meet and love you so,

Sweetheart!

That will be Heaven, I know.

THE

A FALLEN HOUSE.

'HE End has come, which never seems the End, And thou and I, who loved so long and well,

Find, at the last, our Fate implacable —

Stern Fate, who wills not that our lives should blend
But overthrows fair things we did intend:

The house in which long time we thought to dwell
Was built above a ruin, so it fell —

Great was the fall, which no man could defend.

Behold it lies there overthrown, that house

In its fair halls no comer shall carouse

Its broad rooms with strange Silences are filled; No fire upon its crumbling hearth shall glow, Seeing its desolation men shall know

On ruin of what was they may not build.

THE WANDERER.

LOVE comes back to his vacant dwelling,

The old, old Love that we knew of yore !

We see him stand by the open door,

With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling.

He makes as though in our arms repelling,
He fain would lie as he lay before ;-

Love comes back to his vacant dwelling,
The old, old Love that we knew of yore!

Ah, who shall help us from over-spelling
That sweet forgotten, forbidden lore!
E'en as we doubt in our heart once more,
With a rush of tears to our eyelids welling,
Love comes back to his vacant dwelling.

A

AT TWILIGHT.

T twilight, when the air is very still,

When the last daylight cleaves to the last hill, And streams give answer to the changing sky,

When we go home together, Grief and I,
And gaze again from the old window-sill, -

Then is my life most desolate ; until
Your Angel, giving answer to my will,
Troubles the sullen pools of memory
At twilight.

All yours, O Love, are those sweet thoughts that fill
My heart as brim high as the sacred rill

The sad eye'd throng looked on so longingly.
There I am healed. There, as the years go by,

My love for you rises more chastened still

At twilight.

THE MARSHES OF GLYNN.

LOOMS of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and

GLOOMS

Woven

With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven

Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, —

Emerald twilights,

Virginal shy lights,

Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows, When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades

Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods,

Of the heavenly woods and glades,

That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within
The wide sea-marshes of Glynn ;-

Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire,-
Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire,

Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of

leaves,

Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves,