SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN FLOWERS that have died upon my Sweet, For lo a garden place I found, Alone she walked ;— ah, well I wis, Then when I called to her her name At once across the sward she came ; Full fain she seemed, my own dear maid, And asked ever as she came, "Where hast thou stayed ?" "Where hast thou stayed ?" she asked, as though The long years were an hour ago; But I spake not, nor answered, For, looking in her eyes, I saw A light not lit of mortal law; And in her clear cheek's changeless red, And sweet unshaken speaking, found That in this place the Hours were dead, "This is well done," she said, "in thee, For here all things are fair to us, "No formless Future blurs the sky; At "Heaven" she ceased; and lifted up With rounded mouth, and eyes aglow ; Ah, God!-the hard pain fade and melt, sky shook, and lo, I swooned and woke. And now, O Flowers Ye that indeed are dead Now for all waiting hours, Well am I comforted; For of a surety, now, I see, That without dim distress Out from my pain a pillow, and to take And in the holding of my dear Love's hand, Forget the grieving and the misery. THE DISCOVERER I HAVE a little kinsman AUSTIN DOBSON. Whose earthly summers are but three, And yet a voyager is he Greater than Drake or Frobisher, Than all the peers together! And, far beyond the tether Of them who seek the frozen Pole, Has sailed where the noiseless surges roll. Aye, he has travelled whither Suddenly in his fair young hour, "Henceforth thou art a rover ! Since that time no word From the absent has been heard. How he fares, or answer well From the pricking of his chart Hush! does not the baby this way bring, Of chrysolite or pearl? Ah, no! not so ! He is a brave discoverer Of climes his elders do not know. He has more learning than appears On the scroll of twice three thousand years; More than in the groves is taught Or from furthest Indies brought; He knows, perchance, how spirits fare — What shapes the angels wear, What is their guise and speech In those lands beyond our reach Things that shall never, never be to mortal hearers told. EDMUND CLARENCE SIEDMAN. THERE IS NO DEATH THERE is no death! The stars go down There is no death. The dust we tread Shall change beneath the summer showers To golden grain or mellow fruit Or rainbow-tinted flowers. The granite rocks disorganize To feed the hungry moss they bear ; There is no death; the leaves may fall, There is no death! An angel form He leaves our hearts all desolate He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers; The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones Amid the tree of life. And where he sees a smile so bright, Of hearts too pure for taint and vice, Born into that undying life, They leave us but to come again; With joy we welcome them - the same. And ever near us, though unseen, For all the boundless Universe Is life there are no dead. EDWARD BULWER LYTTON. NO MORE SEA THERE shall be no more sea; no wild winds bringing With its scant grasses, and pale sea-flowers springing No angry wave, from cliff and cavern hoary, The loved and lost, whose steps no more may wander Never again through flowery dingles wending 'Neath whispering leaves his rosy children gather, Round the low tomb where sleeps his white-haired father, There shall be no more sea! No surges sweeping Of that fair land within whose pearly portal The golden light falls soft on fount and tree; Vexed by no tempest, stretch those shores immortal, When there is no more sea. THE OTHER WORLD Ir lies around us like a cloud Its gentle breezes fan our cheek; ANONYMOUS. |