PERPLEXED MUSIC

AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO E. J.

EXPERIENCE, like a pale musician, holds A dulcimer of patience in his hand, Whence harmonies we cannot under

stand,

Of God's will in His worlds, the strain unfolds

In sad, perplexed minors. Deathly colds Fall on us while we hear and countermand

land

FUTURITY

AND, O beloved voices, upon which
Ours passionately call, because ere long
Ye brake off in the middle of that song
We sang together softly, to enrich
The poor world with the sense of love,
and witch

The

heart out of things evil,-I am strong,

Knowing ye are not lost for ay among The hills, with last year's thrush. God keeps a niche

With nightingales in visionary wolds. We murmur,-'Where is any certain

tune

Or measured music, in such notes as these?'

But angels, leaning from the golden seat, Are not so minded; their fine ear hath

won

The issue of completed cadences, And, smiling down the stars, they whisper-SWEET.

WORK

WHAT are we set on earth for? Say, to toil;

Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil.

God did anoint thee with His odorous oil, To wrestle, not to reign; and He assigns All thy tears over, like pure crystallines. For younger fellow workers of the soil To wear for amulets. So others shall Take patience, labour, to their heart and hand,

From thy hand, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer,

And God's grace fructify through thee to all.

The least flower, with a brimming cup, may stand,

And share its dewdrop with another

near.

should run

Quick to deny Me 'neath the morning sun?

And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray? The cock crows coldly.-Go, and manifest

A late contrition, but no bootless fear! For when thy final need is dreariest, Thou shalt not be denied, as I am hereMy voice, to God and angels, shall attest, Because I KNOw this man, let him be clear.'

Our Father's business in these temples mirk,

Thus swift and steadfast,—thus,intentand

PAIN IN PLEASURE

A THOUGHT lay like a flower upon mine heart,

And drew around it other thoughts like bees

For multitude and thirst of sweetnesses,

Whereat rejoicing, I desired the art Of the Greek whistler, who to wharf and mart

Could lure those insect swarms from orange-trees,

That I might hive with me such thoughts, and please

My soul so, always. Foolish counterpart Of a weak man's vain wishes! While I spoke,

The thought I called a flower, grew nettle-rough

The thoughts, called bees, stung me to festering.

Oh, entertain (cried Reason, as she woke)

Your best and gladdest thoughts but long

enough,

And they will all prove sad enough to sting.

FINITE AND INFINITE

THE wind sounds only in opposing straights,

The sea, beside the shore; man's spirit rends

Its quiet only up against the ends Of wants and oppositions, loves and hates,

Where, worked and worn by passionate debates,

And losing by the loss it apprehends, The flesh rocks round, and every breath it sends

Is ravelled to a sigh. All tortured states Suppose a straitened place. Jehovah

Lord,

Make room for rest, around me! out of sight

Now float me, of the vexing land abhorred,

Till in deep calms of space my soul may right

Her nature,-shoot large sail on lengthening cord,

And rush exultant on the Infinite.

AN APPREHENSION

Ir all the gentlest-hearted friends I know Concentred in one heart their gentleness,

That still grew gentler, till its pulse was less

For life than pity,—I should yet be slow To bring my own heart nakedly below The palm of such a friend, that he should

press

Motive, condition, means, appliances,
My false ideal joy and fickle woe,
Out full to light and knowledge; I should

fear

Some plait between the brows-some rougher chime

In the free voice... O angels, let your

flood

Of bitter scorn dash on me! do ye hear What I say, who bear calmly all the time This everlasting face to face with GOD?

PATIENCE TAUGHT BY NATURE

'O DREARY life,' we cry, ' O dreary life!' And still the generations of the birds Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds

Serenely live while we are keeping strife With Heaven's true purpose in us, as a knife

Against which we may struggle! ocean girds

Unslackened the dry land, savannahswards

Unweary sweep,-hills watch, unworn;

and rife

Meek leaves drop yearly from the foresttrees,

To show above the unwasted stars that pass

In their old glory. O thou God of old, Grant me some smaller grace than comes

to these!

But so much patience as a blade of grass Grows by, contented through the heat and cold.

EXAGGERATION

WE overstate the ills of life, and take Imagination (given us to bring down The choirs of singing angels overshone By God's clear glory) down our earth to rake

The dismal snows instead,-flake follow-
ing flake,
We walk upon
across
a level
Near the alder-

To cover all the corn.
The shadow of hills
thrown,
And pant like climbers.
brake

We sigh so loud, the nightingale within
Refuses to sing loud, as else she would.
O brothers! let us leave the shame and
sin

Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood, The holy name of GRIEF! - holy herein, That by the grief of ONE came all our good.

ADEQUACY

Now by the verdure on thy thousand hills, Beloved England,-doth the earth ap

pear

Quite good enough for men to overbear The will of God in, with rebellious wills!

We cannot say the morning-sun fulfils Ingloriously its course, nor that the clear Strong stars without significance insphere

Our habitation. We, meantime, our ills Heap up against this good, and lift a cry Against this work-day world, this illspread feast,

As if ourselves were better certainly Than what we come to. Maker and High Priest,

I ask Thee not my joys to multiply,Only to make me worthier of the least.

TO GEORGE SAND

A RECOGNITION

TRUE genius, but true woman! dost deny Thy woman's nature with a manly scorn, And break away the gauds and armlets

worn

By weaker women in captivity?
Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry
Is sobbed in by a woman's voice for-
lorn!-

Thy woman's hair, my sister, all unshorn,
Floats back dishevelled strength in agony,
Disproving thy man's name! and while
before

The world thou burnest in a poet-fire, We see thy woman-heart beat evermore Through the large flame. Beat purer, heart, and higher,

Till God unsex thee on the heavenly shore,

Where unincarnate spirits purely aspire.

TO GEORGE SAND

A DESIRE

THOU large-brained woman and largehearted man,

Self-called George Sand! whose soul,

amid the lions Ofthy tumultuous senses, moans defiance, And answers roar for roar, as spirits can! I would some mild miraculous thunder ran Above the applauded circus, in appliance Of thine own nobler nature's strength and science,

Drawing two pinions, white as wings of swan,

From thy strong shoulders, to amaze the place

With holier light! that thou to woman's claim,

And man's, mightst join beside the angel's grace

Of a fa pure genius sanctified from blame,Till child and maiden pressed to thine embrace,

To kiss upon thy lips a stainless fame.