RECOMPENSE

I MUST not think of thee; and, tired, yet strong,

I shun the thought that lurks in all delight

The thought of thee and in the blue heaven's height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.

Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng

This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;

I must stop short of thee the whole day long.

But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away, ·

With the first dream that comes with the first sleep,
I run, I run, I am gather'd to thy heart.

PAKENHAM BEATTY.

BIRD OF PASSAGE

AS THE day's last light is dying,

As the night's first breeze is sighing,

I send you, love, like a messenger-dove, my thought through the distance flying;

Let it perch on your sill; or, better,

Let it feel your soft hand's fetter,

While you search and bring, from under its wing, love, hidden away like a letter.

EDGAR FAWCETT.

THE LOVE-LETTER

THE way I read a letter 's this:
'T is first I lock the door,
And push it with my fingers next,
For transport it be sure.

And then I go the furthest off,
To counteract a knock;
Then draw my little letter forth
And softly pick its lock.

Then, glancing narrow at the wall,

And narrow at the floor,

For firm conviction of a mouse

Not exorcised before,

I FEAR THY KISSES

I FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden ;
Thou needest not fear mine;
My spirit is too deeply laden

Ever to burthen thine.

I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion;
Thou needest not fear mine;

Innocent is the heart's devotion

With which I worship thine.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

THE PATRIOT'S BRIDE

OH! give me back that royal dream
My fancy wrought,

When I have seen your sunny eyes
Grow moist with thought;

And fondly hoped, dear Love, your heart from mine
Its spell had caught;

And laid me down to dream that dream divine,

But true, methought,

Of how my life's long task would be, to make yours blessed as it ought.

To learn to love sweet Nature more

For your sweet sake,

To watch with you

dear friend, with you!

Its wonders break;

The sparkling spring in that bright face to see

Its mirror make ·

On summer morns to hear the sweet birds sing

By linn and lake;

And know your voice, your magic voice, could still a grander music wake!

To wake the old weird world that sleeps

In Irish lore;

The strains sweet foreign Spenser sung

By Mulla's shore;

Dear Curran's airy thoughts, like purple birds
That shine and soar;

Tone's fiery hopes, and all the deathless vows
That Grattan swore ;

The songs that once our own dear Davis sung -
sing no more.

And all those proud old victor-fields
We thrill to name,

Whose memories are the stars that light

Long nights of shame;

-ah, me! to

The Cairn, the Dun, the Rath, the Power, the Keep,
That still proclaim

In chronicles of clay and stone, how true, how deep
Was Eirè's fame :

Oh! we shall see them all, with her, that dear, dear friend we two have loved the same.

Yet ah! how truer, tenderer still
Methought did seem

That scene of tranquil joy, that happy home
By Dodder's stream,

The morning smile, that grew a fixed star
With love-lit beam,

The ringing laugh, lock'd hands, and all the far
And shining stream

Of daily love, that made our daily life diviner than a dream.

For still to me, dear Friend, dear Love,

Or both dear Wife,

Your image comes with serious thoughts,
But tender, rife ;

No idle plaything to caress or chide

In sport or strife,

But my best chosen friend, companion, guide,

To walk through life,

Link'd hand in hand, two equal, loving friends, true husband

and true wife.

SIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY.

TOGETHER

I DREAMED of Paradise, and still,
Though sun lay soft on vale and hill
And trees were green and rivers bright,
The one dear thing that made delight
By sun or stars or Eden weather,
Was just that we two were together.

I dream'd of Heaven, -with God so near!
The angels trod the shining sphere,

And each was beautiful; the days
Were choral work, were choral praise :
And yet in Heaven's far-shining weather
The best was still we were together!
I woke,

and lo, my dream was true,
That happy dream of me and you!
For Eden, Heaven, no need to roam,
The foretaste of it all is Home,

Where you and I through this world's weather
Still work and praise and thank together.

Together weave from love a nest

For all that's good and sweet and blest

To brood in, till it come a face,

A voice, a soul, a child's embrace,

And then what peace of Bethlehem weather,

What songs, as we go on together!

Together greet life's solemn real,
Together own one glad ideal,
Together laugh, together ache,

And think one thought, "each other's sake,"
And hope one hope,- in new-world weather
To still go on, and go together!

WILLIAM C. GANNETT.

I SAW TWO CLOUDS AT MORNING

I SAW two clouds at morning,

Tinged with the rising sun,

And in the dawn they floated on,

And mingled into one;

I thought that morning cloud was blest,

It moved so sweetly to the west.

I saw two summer currents

Flow smoothly to their meeting,

And join their course, with silent force,

In peace each other greeting;

Calm was their course, through banks of green,

While dimpling eddies play'd between.

Such be your gentle motion,

Till life's last pulse shall beat;

Like summer's beam, and summer's stream,

Float on in joy, to meet

A calmer sea where storms shall cease,

A purer sky where all is peace.

JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD.

LOVE'S WISDOM

How long I've loved thee, and how well
I dare not tell!

Because, if thou shouldst once divine
This love of mine,

Or did but once my tongue confess
My heart's distress,

Far, far too plainly thou wouldst see
My slavery,

And, guessing what Love's wit should hide,
Rest satisfied!

So, though I worship at thy feet,

I'll be discreet

And all my love shall not be told,
Lest thou be cold,

And, knowing I was always thine,
Scorn to be mine.

So I am dumb, to rescue thee

From tyranny

And, by my silence, I do prove

Wisdom and Love!

MARGARET DELAND.

A WOMAN'S QUESTION

BEFORE I trust my fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy future give
Color and form to mine,

Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.

I break all slighter bonds, nor feel

A shadow of regret :

Is there one link within the Past

That holds thy spirit yet?

Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to

thee ?

Does there within thy dimmest dreams

A possible future shine,

Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,

Untouched, unshared by mine?

If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost.

Look deeper still. If thou canst feel,

Within thy inmost soul,

That thou hast kept a portion back,

While I have staked the whole,

Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.