FOURTH PART. ONORA looketh listlessly adown the garden walk: Of the stedfast skies above, the running brooks be low. All things are the same but I, -only I am dreary, And, mother, of my dreariness behold me very weary. 'Mother, brother, pull the flowers I planted in the spring And smiled to think I should smile more upon their gathering. The bees will find out other flowers--oh, pull them, dearest mine, And carry them and carry me before St. Agnes' shrine.' -Whereat they pulled the summer flowers she planted in the spring, And her and them all mournfully to Agnes' shrine did bring. She looked up to the pictured saint and gently shook her head 'The picture is too calm for me too calm for me,' she said: 'The little flowers we brought with us, before it we may lay, For those are used to look at heaven, but I must She spoke with passion after pause---'And were it wisely done, If we who cannot gaze above, should walk the earth alone? If we whose virtue is so weak, should have a will so strong, And stand blind on the rocks, to choose the right path from the wrong? To choose perhaps a love-lit hearth, instead of love and Heaven,— A single rose, for a rose-tree, which beareth seven times seven? A rose that droppeth from the hand, that fadeth in the breast, Until, in grieving for the worst, we learn what is the best!' Then breaking into tears, - 'Dear God,' she cried, 'and must we see All blissful things depart from us, or ere we go to THEE? We cannot guess thee in the wood, or hear thee in wind? Our cedars must fall round us, ere we see the light behind? Ay sooth, we feel too strong in weal, to need thee on that road, But woe being come, the soul is dumb that crieth not on 'God." Her mother could not speak for tears; she ever musèd thus, 'The bees will find out other flowers, but what is left for us?' But her young brother stayed his sobs and knelt be side her knee, -'Thou sweetest sister in the world, hast never a word for me?' She passed her hand across his face, she pressed it on his cheek, So tenderly, so tenderly-she needed not to speak. The wreath which lay on shrine that day, at vespers bloomed no more. The woman fair who placed it there, had died an hour before. Both perished mute, for lack of root, earth's nourishment to reach. O reader, breathe (the ballad saith) some sweetness out of each! A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES. I. SEVEN maidens 'neath the midnight Whose water sweepeth white around The moon and earth are face to face, And earth is slumbering deep; The wave-voice seems the voice of dreams That wander through her sleep. The river floweth on. II. What bring they 'neath the midnight, They bring the human heart wherein That droppeth never with the wind, Oh, calm it God! thy calm is broad The river floweth on. III. The maidens lean them over The waters, side by side, And shun each other's deepening eyes, For each within a little boat A little lamp hath put, And heaped for freight some lily's weight Or scarlet rose half shut. The river floweth on. IV. Of shell of cocoa carven, Each little boat is made. Each carries a lamp, and carries a flower, And carries a hope unsaid; And when the boat hath carried the lamp Unquenched, till out of sight, The maiden is sure that love will endure, But love will fail with light. The river floweth on. V. Why, all the stars are ready To symbolise the soul, The stars untroubled by the wind, And yet the soul by instinct sad Reverts to symbols low To that small flame, whose very name Breathed o'er it, shakes it so! The river floweth on. VI. Six boats are on the river, Seven maidens on the shore, The river floweth on. VII. The maiden Luti watcheth Where onwardly they float. Creep silent through her prayers. VOL. 1.-20 The river floweth on. |