Not that the earth is changing, O my God!
Nor that the seasons totter in their walk,
Not that the virulent ill of act and talk
Scethes ever as a winepress ever trod,
Not therefore are we certain that the rod
Weighs in thine hand to smite thy world;
though now

Beneath thine hand so many nations bow, So many kings:-not therefore, O my God!— But because Man is parcelled out in men

To-day; because, for any wrongful blow, 10 No man not stricken asks, "I would be told

Why thou dost thus:" but his heart whispers then,

"He is he, I am I." By this we know That the earth falls asunder, being old.

THE SONNET

A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity

To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,

1 the lover of Guinevere, King Arthur's queen 2 i.e., the book brought them together as he did Launcelot and Guinevere

When do I see thee most, beloved one?
When in the light the spirits of mine eyes
Before thy face, their altar, solemnize
The worship of that Love through thee made
known?

Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,)~
Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies--
Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies,
And my soul only sees thy soul its own?
O love, my love! if I no more should see
Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee."

Nor image of thine eyes in any spring, → 11 How then should sound upon Life's darkening slope

The ground-whirl of the perished leaves of Hope,

The wind of Death's imperishable wing?

LOVE-SWEETNESS

Sweet dimness of her loosened hair's downfall About thy face; her sweet hands round thy head

In gracious fostering union garlanded; Her tremulous smiles; her glances' sweet recall Of love; her murmuring sighs memorial;

Her mouth's culled sweetness by thy kisses shed

On cheeks and neck and eyelids, and so led Back to her mouth which answers there for all:

What sweeter than these things, except the thing

1 the ferryman who in Greek mythology conveyed the spirits of the dead across the river Styx to Hades

Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?

Is not the day which God's word promiseth To come man knows not when? In yonder sky,

Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I

Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath

Even at this moment haply quickeneth The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh Though screened and hid, shall walk the daylight here.

And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?

Canst thou, who hast but plagues, presume to be

II

Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?

Will his strength slay thy worm in Hell? Go to:

Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.

VAIN VIRTUES

LOST DAYS

The lost days of my life until to-day,
What were they, could I see them on the

street

Lie as they fell? Would they be ears of wheat

Sown once for food but trodden into clay? Or golden coins squandered and still to-pay?

Or drops of blood dabbling the guilty feet? Or such spilt water as in dreams must cheat The undying throats of Hell, athirst alway? I do not see them here; but after death

God knows I know the faces I shall see, 10 Each one a murdered self, with low last breath. "I am thyself, what hast thou done to me?"

A SUPERSCRIPTION

Look in my face; my name is Might-havebeen;

I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell;

Unto thine ear I hold the dead-sea shell Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted feet between; Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen Which had Life's form and Love's, but by my spell

Is now a shaken shadow intolerable, Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen. Mark me, how still I am! But should there dart

One moment through thy soul the soft surprise

IO

Of that winged Peace which lulls the breath of sighs,

Then shalt thou see me smile, and turn apart Thy visage to mine ambush at thy heart, Sleepless with cold commemorative eyes.

THE ONE HOPE

When vain desire at last and vain regret
Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,
What shall assuage the unforgotten pain
And teach the unforgetful to forget?

Shall Peace be still a sunk stream long unmet,

Or may the soul at once in a green plain Stoop through the spray of some sweet lifefountain