'God,' ' Liberty,' 'Truth,'-which they hearken and think

And work into harmony, link upon link,

Till the silver meets round the earth gelid and dense,
Shedding sparks of electric responding intense
On the dark of eclipse.

Then we hear through the silence and glory afar,
As from shores of a star

In aphelion, the new generations that cry
Disenthralled by our voice to harmonious reply,
'God,' 'Liberty,' 'Truth!'

We are glorious forsooth,

And our name has a seat,

Though the shroud should be donned.
O Life, O Beyond,

Thou art strange, thou art sweet!

VIII.

Help me, God! help me, man! I am low, I am weak, Death loosens my sinews and creeps in my veins; My body is cleft by these wedges of pains

From my spirit's serene,

And I feel the externe and insensate creep

On my organized clay;

I sob not, nor shriek,

Yet I faint fast away:

in

I am strong in the spirit,-deep-thoughted, clear

eyed,

I could walk, step for step, with an angel beside,

On the heaven-heights of truth.
Oh, the soul keeps its youth

But the body faints sore, it is tried in the race,
It sinks from the chariot ere reaching the goal,
It is weak, it is cold,

The rein drops from its hold,

It sinks back, with the death in its face.
On, chariot! on, soul!

Ye are all the more fleet

Be alone at the goal

Of the strange and the sweet!

IX.

Love us, God! love us, man! we believe, we achieve : Let us love, let us live,

For the acts correspond;

We are glorious, and DIE:

And again on the knee of a mild Mystery

That smiles with a change,

Here we lie.

• O DEATH, O BEYOND,

Thou art sweet, thou art strange!

A LAY OF THE EARLY ROSE.

'discordance that can accord."

ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.

A ROSE Once grew within
A garden April-green,

In her loneness, in her loneness,
And the fairer for that oneness.

A white rose delicate

On a tall bough and straight:

Early comer, early comer,
Never waiting for the summer.

Her pretty gestes did win

South winds to let her in, In her loneness, in her loneness, All the fairer for that oneness.

6

For if I wait,' said she,

'Till time for roses be,

For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,

Maiden-blush and royal-dusk rose,

'What glory then for me

In such a company ?—-
Roses plenty, roses plenty,
And one nightingale for twenty!

'Nay, let me in,' said she

'Before the rest are free, In my loneness, in my loneness, All the fairer for that oneness.

'For I would lonely stand
Uplifting my white hand,
On a mission, on a mission,
To declare the coming vision.

'Upon which lifted sign,

What worship will be mine!

What addressing, what caressing,
And what thanks and praise and blessing!

'A windlike joy will rush

Through every tree and bush,

Bending softly in affection

And spontaneous benediction.

'Insects, that only may

Live in a sunbright ray,

To my whiteness, to my whiteness,
Shall be drawn as to a brightness,-

'And every moth and bee,
Approach me reverently,

Wheeling o'er me, wheeling o'er me,
Coronals of motioned glory.

'Three larks shall leave a cloud,

To my whiter beauty vowed, Singing gladly all the moontide, Never waiting for the suntide.

'Ten nightingales shall flee

Their woods for love of me,

Singing sadly all the suntide,
Never waiting for the moontide.

'I ween the very skies

Will look down with surprise, When below on earth they see me With my starry aspect dreamy.

'And earth will call her flowers To hasten out of doors,

By their curtsies and sweet-smelling, To give grace to my foretelling.'

So praying, did she win.

South winds to let her in, In her loneness, in her loneness, And the fairer for that oneness.