ST. AGNES' EVE

Deep on the convent-roof the snows
Are sparkling to the moon:
My breath to heaven like vapour goes:
May my soul follow soon!

The shadows of the convent-towers
Slant down the snowy sward,

Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my Lord:

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear
As are the frosty skies,

Or this first snowdrop of the year
That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soil'd and dark
To yonder shining ground;

As this pale taper's earthly spark,

To yonder argent round;

So shows my soul before the Lamb,
My spirit before Thee;

So in mine earthly house I am,

To that I hope to be.

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,
Thro' all yon starlight keen,

Draw me, Thy bride, a glittering star,
In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;
The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,

And deepens on and up! the gates
Roll back, and far within

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,
To make me pure of sin.

The sabbaths of Eternity,

One sabbath deep and wide

A light upon the shining sea
The Bridegroom with his bride!

Alfred Tennyson

Matthew Arnold, Born 1822 December the Twenty-fourth

George Crabbe, Born 1754

PREPARATIONS

Yet if His Majesty, our sovereign lord,

Should of his own accord

Friendly himself invite,

And say, "I'll be your guest to-morrow night,"
How should we stir ourselves, call and command
All hands to work! "Let no man idle stand!

"Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall; See they be fitted all;

Let there be room to eat

And order taken that there want no meat.
See every scone and candlestick made bright,
That without tapers they may give a light.

"Look to the presence: are the carpets spread, The dazie o'er the head,

The cushions in the chairs,

And all the candles lighted on the stairs?
Perfume the chambers, and in any case

Let each man give attendance in his place!"

Thus, if a king were coming, would we do;
And 'twere good reason, too;

For 'tis a duteous thing

To show all honour to an earthly king,
And after all our travail and our cost,

So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.

But at the coming of the King of Heaven
All's set at six and seven;

We wallow in our sin,

Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.
We entertain Him always like a stranger,
And, as at first, still lodge Him in the manger.

Christ Church MS. (About 1600)

THE BURNING BABE

As I in hoary winter's night
Stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat
Which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye
To view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright
Did in the air appear;

Who, scorched with excessive heat,
Such floods of tears did shed,

As though His floods should quench His
flames,

Which with His tears were bred: "Alas!" quoth He, "but newly born In fiery heats I fry,

Yet none approach to warm their hearts
Or feel my fire but I !

"My faultless breast the furnace is;
The fuel, wounding thorns;
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke;
The ashes, shames and scorns;

The fuel Justice layeth on,

And Mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought

Are men's defilèd souls:

For which, as now on fire I am
To work them to their good,

So will I melt into a bath,

To wash them in my blood."
With this He vanish'd out of sight
And swiftly shrunk away,

And straight I called unto mind
That it was Christmas Day.

Robert Southwell

A MYSTICAL ECSTASY

E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks,

That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks, Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, Where in a greater current they conjoin: So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine.

E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,

E'en so we join'd; we both became entire; No need for either to renew a suit,

For I was flax and he was flames of fire: Our firm united souls did more than twine; So I my Best-Belovèd's am; so He is mine.

If all those glittering Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world's but theirs; but my Beloved's mine.

Francis Quarles

COME NOT, WHEN I AM DEAD

Come not, when I am dead,

To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,

To trample round my fallen head,

And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.

There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;

But thou, go by.

Child, if it were thine error or thy crime

I care no longer, being all unblest:

Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,

And I desire to rest.

Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie:

Go by, go by.

Alfred Tennyson

SONG

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree :
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain :

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

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 which 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!

Austin Dobson