PS LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. %{r — ^mm^ I'J — UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. SONNETS IN SHADOW. Sonnets in Shadow. / ARLO BATES. BOSTON: ROBERTS BROTHERS. 1887. Copyright, 1887, Bv Roberts Brothers. Stnibtrsila P«s»: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. H. L. V. B. f9 O ^ G 5c. ^ ^ /. Ti/fOST lives are like or tree or shrub or weedy And slow or swift to fiower and fruitage grow j Or, broken ere their prime, forlornly show But blighted bud, promise of fruit or seed. Not so was thine, nor such excuse did need. Thy life was like a crystal, perfect so Whene''er growth ended. Time could but bestow More space to prove worth still by newer deed. Like a rare gem where richest star fires play, Flashing a hundred tinted flames, which yet Is white and lucent as the drop which day With its first burning sunbeam touches, set Upon the tip of some fresh hawthorn spray, — Such was thy life ; so rich, so pure alway. //. /1-^D yet not so; since cold the reddest fire Ever from diamond or dew-drop burned j While what sweet warmth and ardor are intirned Where thou art laid, might tell nor pen nor lyre. One sits by his lone hearth, atid sees mount higher The flame toward which of old two faces turtted; Most like it is the spirit which sojourned Awhile beside it. When it shall expire, To what cold dust its cinders fall atnain. What cheer and sense of home while it endure ; What desolation waiting on its wane! How perfect joy thy presence did inspire ^ How hopeless life without thee, and how vain; The flame once sped, the ashes are so poor! SONNETS IN SHADOW. I. I. A FTER fate smites, the heart at first is dumb, "^^- And neither feels nor can believe its woe. Then past the torpid soul the gray days go, And lay their curious fingers, chill and numb, Upon its wounds, till pain has reached its sum, And the soul cries in agony ; while slow And unreal as the shapes that visions show The stealthy days glide on, until is come Some dreadful morn that with its mocking sneer Gives full assurance, and the spirit there Yields up at last even the right to fear. No more it recks if hfe be foul or fair. Or cries, " This cannot be ! " but sitteth drear, Owning, " It is ! " calm in its blank despair. SONNETS IN SHADOW. n. T ITTLE by little, as some down-trod weed *~^ Leaf after leaf lifts painfully again, Does life renew its uses. Though remain Desire nor hope, though every heart-wound bleed, Nature's high law no mortal may impede In its remorseless working. Wholly vain Protest or strife ; we to obey are fain. Slaves of strong destiny in thought and deed. As those whom destiny compels, we take One after one all life's old duties up ; Its cares and fears, its terror and its ache ; Even its joys, though each, an empty cup Where once was wine, but serves the thought to wake Of draught divine we once did from it sup. SONNETS IN SHADOW. II. TXTHAT is this monstrous thing called death? ^ ^ . What plea Within the universe can justify Its presence ? How can even one man die Nor yet the world to utter ruin be Hurled instantly? Creatures of nothing, we Raise all our outraged souls in one fierce cry Against such wrong ; defiant, lift on high Our empty arms, that men and gods may see What has befallen ! Though most impotent Our protest be ; though all the powers vvliose hate Still wreaks itself on hapless man be bent To crush our hearts with woes unmitigate, For justice will we clamor, vehement, Against this crime unspeakable of fate ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. T T 7AS it for this that love was given man, ' * As to the tortured wretch they would not kill, Stretched on the rack, to keep him living still Inquisitors dole scanty drops ? The plan Infernal craft devised, lest when to ban By death it sought, it bless against its will ! Were love unknown, who could find death an ill, Or fail to bless the shortening of life's span? As wind-dried leaves crushed in a giant hand Our hearts are broken by malignant fate. The spring of love that made them once expand But nourished them to feed immortal hate. Oh, woe, that even love was only planned To serve a cruelty insatiate ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. III. f~\ F what avail is it with death to chide ? ^-^ Can deepest anguish move the stubborn fates ? Or good or evil for each mortal waits Whether we pray or curse or passive bide. Yet when the grave-sods our beloved hide, Our being all its powers dedicates To wring from that dread hand which arbitrates, Some miracle return them to our side. The whole sad soul dissolves into a prayer So mighty that it seems it could not fail. The eager spirit searches everywhere For avenues by which heaven to assail. We lose all self in plea beyond compare ; — And yet, of what avail, of what avail ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. IV. T T OW dreadful is the languor of the soul ■*• -^ Which neither hopes nor fears, which has no care For great or small ; indifferent how fare Alike the highway's dusts, the stars that roll. When death takes love he takes at once the whole Life has of worth. Thereafter earth nor air Nor pearl-rich sea can longer anywhere Give to the desolate or joy or dole. If it be morn or noon or amber eve, If sun or moon or cloud possess the sky. If foes be kind, if trusted friends deceive, If fortune load with gifts or pass us by, — What does it matter? What should glad or grieve Now that indifferent the loved doth lie ? SONNETS IN SHADOW. '"PHERE is such power even in smallest things ■*■ To bring the dear past back ; a flower's tint, A snatch of some old song, the fleeting glint Of sunbeams on the wave, — each vivid brings The lost days up, as from the idle strings Of wind-harp sad a breeze evokes the hint Of antique tunes. A glove which keeps imprint Of a loved hand the heart with torture wrings By memory of a clasp meant more than speech ; A face seen in the crowd with curve of cheek Or sweep of eyelash our woe's core can reach. How strong is love to yearn and yet how weak To strive with fate, the lesson all things teach, As of the past in myriad ways they speak. SONNETS IN SHADOW. "T^EATH so brings all life's standards unto naught ■"-^ That joy, in dismal paradox, brings pain, And sorrow pleasure ; joy is void and vain When it but stabs the heart with bitter thought Of one who may not share it. Woe is fraught At least with the remembrance that this bane Hurts not the dead, till we, heart-sick, are fain Give thanks that death to them has respite brought ; While joy so cruel is, no pang is spared In memories of bliss our hearts have known. Bitter it is to bear a grief unshared ; But bitterer to meet our joys alone. Once only for the bliss of life we cared ; In desolation bliss makes sharpest moan. SONNETS IN SHADOW. VI. T X fE know the tales of death, whose measures run * ^ On drowned sailors, lying lank and chill Under the sirupy gi-een wave ; and still, White maids, to whose beds fleshless death has won, Instead of love ; the fair, pale bride undone By the dread ravisher, while yet no ill Had marred her joy ; dotards whose years fulfil A century, to end as they begun : But who of all the dead is dead to us Until fate smites our own? Or maid or bride, Dotard or mariner, though dolorous His dying be, 't is as a dream beside The fiery reality when thus Death's very self enters where we abide. SONNETS IN SUA now. VII. T F it should be we are watched unaware -^ By those who have gone from us ; if our sighs Ring in their ears ; if tears that scald our eyes They see and long to stanch ; if our despair Fills them with anguish, — we must learn to bear In strength of silence. Howso doubt denies It cannot give assurance which defies All peradventure ; and if anywhere Our loved grieve with our grieving, cruel we To cherish selfishness of woe. The chance Should keep us steadfast. Tortured utterly, This hope alone in all the world's expanse VVe clutch forlornly ; how deep love can be, Griefs silence proving more than utterance. SONNETS IN SHADOW. VIII. T T OW absolute the solitude death brings. •*- -*■ Though by the heartless insolence of fate Life still goes on ; though friends compassionate About us throng, — the heart so strongly clings Unto the past's perfect companionings That all the world seems void and desolate. Once e'en the waste we walked in kingly state , Since our loved shared in thought our journeyings : Now vacant are alike the thronging street And those familiar rooms where memory Pictures that presence still which used to greet Our steps returning. Empty utterly The universe for us, if faith, more fleet Than doubt, outrun not cold uncertainty. BONNETS IN SHADOW. IX. T7VER for consolation grief is told -■— ^ How worse might be, and woe be heaped on woe, - As if the present pain were softened so, Made less by fancied evils manifold. Would the impoverished diver be consoled, When from his hand the pearl, like melting snow, Slips to plunge darkling in the tide below. That the void shell has not escaped his hold? When love has from our longing arms been torn, What boots it if the empty world we grasp ? To those who this supreme bereavement mourn It little matters what woe follows fast ! The worst that fate can do already borne. The very meaning of such dread is past. SONNETS IN SHADOW. X. /^NE might endure the day, wear out the night ; ^^ It is the morning hour that wrings the heart, — When from fair dreams that lulled our pain we start, And find the world dissolved in misty light. While far aloof the day-star glitters bright, As 't were the loved one's soul which draws apart From whispering us in sleep. How keen the smart Of meeting life afresh, the bitter fight With grief renewing ; while, glad with the day, The birds sing in sheer bliss to be alive, The winged breeze crisps the trees into spray Of verdant waves that lisp like wort-rubbed hive Of gold-girt bees ; and night we cannot stay, Or hush the jocund noise, howe'er we strive ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. XI. npHE best of friends, if fate their ways doth part, ■■■ Grow strange through severance of their daily round. New interests hold them ; one by one are found Hopes they share not together ; and though heart To heart still cling, no longer the same smart They feel, no more with the same joyance bound. The union once like concord of sweet sound Does separation mar with cunning art. When this we note, the bitter doubt is born If death's division shall work ruin so In love's communion ; if each weary morn Finds us remoter from the heart we know. Ah, cruel fate, if e'en the hope forlorn Of unseen friendship needs must fail our woe ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. T 1 7HATEVER faith believe, still is out-run * * This pleasant earth-life which love made so sweet. Though we again in other worlds shall meet, This joyousness forevermore is done. Life there may be more fair ; more bright the sun. More fragrant meads in which shall stray our feet. Love's blisses linger long and sorrows fleet ; But howso rich in joys that future, none Can soothe our present pain, when hand seeks hand And finds it not ; when that dear voice is stilled Scarce needed word to make us understand The heart's best secrets ; when that smile which filled The world with light, the glance which could command Our soul's best use, relendess fate has chilled. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XII. '"P HOUGH faith be dead, yet will our hope outrun -*■ Even the grave's doubt with triumphant might, To reach some Devachan forever bright AVhere all earth's wrong and anguish are undone ; Where as some awful star, dual though one, — Two throbbing heart-fires in one sphere of light, — Does soul with soul beloved so unite As they had ne'er been two since time begun. What were the clasp of hand by hand, of eye The glance to eye, even of lip on lip The holy rapture, with such bliss to vie ? Ah, though this be illusion fate will strip Full soon, an hour it lifts us to the sky, And with the gods gives us full fellowship ! SONNETS IN SNA DO IV. XIII. TXT" HEN from all smallest trifles we have spun ^ ^ Those threads as strong as steel, though cobweb fine, Which bind us each to each, and thus divine Made homely cares, to know such living done Brings weariness of all beneath the sun. Infinite tasks are now those toils combine To make our days ; we hate those coils intvvine To hamper, when we swift life's course would run. All duties, hovve'er dull, we patient bore, Since their use served our love ; but now they tease Our very soul with importunings sore. Even the stripes of fate sting less than these Gnat-bites of circumstance, which evermore Rankle with venom nothing can appease. SONNETS IN SHADOW. "^/ET is there blessing even in the fret -*■ Of petty tasks, their ministry to save The thoughts from deeps of woe, as from the wave Thorns lift the wretch who, falling, holds them yet Despite their sting. A moment we forget Our grief for teasing cares ; as to a slave A queen might give a thought denied the brave, Since on her path intrusive feet he set. When all life's bliss could the bereaved heart From its deep, brooding woe never beguile. The homely round of life draws us apart From sorrow's drear absorption, and awhile We are unconscious of the burning smart. Toil only life and grief can reconcile. SONNETS IN SNA DO IV. XIV. TT is to-morrow and to-morrow still, -*■ And yet again to-morrow that our peace Shall come once more ; that time shall bring surcease From pain, and rest the yearning bosom fill ; While ever is to-day a brooding ill Which shuts us in : and life finds no release From its numb ache and terror, while decrease, To fight despair, the energy and will. To-morrow, still to-morrow, while to-day Ever of waning hope tells by its gloom. That sweet mirage, to-morrow, fades away Till it is distant as the morn of doom. We chase it alway with no power to stay, Since there is no to-morrow save the tomb. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XV. T X 7ITH dulcimer, citole, and psaltery, ' ^ Tabor and pipe, and all the gauds of joy, Has Love been painted, a soft, wanton boy Dear to the nymphs and satyrs rude with glee. They who in sorrow sit more truthfully Know Love the sable-winged, strong to destroy All Hfe's illusions ; mighty to employ The soul's best powers ; noble, pure, and free. The rosy cherubs, like light butterflies, Vanish with gloom ; while night with flame enspheres The love which is immortal whoso dies. He shows the soul the angels as its peers ; Above the present bids the thought arise ; And slakes the heart's thirst from his cup of tears. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XVI. T^ VER is new, however old, despair. ■^^ The weary toiler to his load, the nun To her strait cell, grow wonted ; one by one We tire of joys and wear out all things fair. But sorrow is immortal. From the glare Of flames it seems to die in, toward the sun It springs new-born, its Phoenix-course to run. Its blight and shadow follow everywhere, Fire in hot, blinding day, but double gloom In darksome night. Where may one flee or hide From its approach, as terrible as doom ? In all the shores found by the searching tide There is no hope, save it be in the tomb, — Oh, do our loved in safety there abide ? SONNETS IN SHADOW. XVII. A S flower- soft Moorish girls, who circling dance "^*- Like dusky moths about the torch's flame ; Or as fierce bearded Goths no man might tame, Striking their clanging shields with brazen lance, Once memories came, desire's impassioned trance Awaking, or inspiring thirst for fame. But where we sit to weep, with steps of shame, In charnel cerements wound, they now advance Like shapes dragged from their tombs. However fair They once have been, the grave-taint mars them aU ; Their hollow tones are keyed but to despair. Could we forget when on the coffin fall The leaden clods, time might our woe outwear : Would God that memory shared the loved one's pall ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. \7ET loss were double loss did we forget. -*■ Who once has loved begrudges not to pay, Since needs must be, with ache of heart alway For love's divine ; and thus the seal is set That marks his passion true. The sun lives yet, When night's black ruin has o'ervvhelmed the day ; And death, which claims the loved one, cannot slay Love, the immortal. Are not our eyes wet ? If we no longer loved why should we weep ? Since still we love, we bless that memory Which makes love possible and strong and deep. Bitter the fruit we pluck from memory's tree, And yet its acrid husks a kernel keep Sweeter than honey of Hymettian bee. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XVIII. T IKE to a coin, passing from hand to hand, ^-^ Are common memories, and day by day The sharpness of their impress wears away. But love's remembrances unspoiled withstand The touch of time, as in an antique land Where some proud town old centuries did slay. Intaglios buried lie, still in decay Perfect and precious spite of grinding sand. What fame or joy or sorrow has been ours. What we have hoped or feared, we may forget. The clearness of all memory time deflours. Save that of love alone, persistent yet Though sure oblivion all things else devours. Its tracings firm as when they first were set. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XIX. T N our remembrances one poignant thought "*■ Will haunt us still, as may some single note Wail from the horns, then murmur from the throat Of hautboys sad, and yet again be caught By shrilling viols, with all passion fraught ; Now high, now low, now near, and now remote, Over the tide of sound seeming to float, As all without that tone must come to naught. How deep is woe if memory's key-note be Not sweet, but sad with wrong's remembered ache. Lost joy we weep, but what repentant plea From memory of wrong the sting can take ! The weight of grief may not crush utterly. But with remorse the bravest heart must break. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XX. T~\EATH in its amber sets the happy past ^-^ With all its colors fair, like those bright flies That sunned their wings beneath the young world's skies, And still shine gem-like long as time shall last. Sorrows that might their shadow on love cast, Doubts that might blight, or griefs that might arise, Can mar it not. Safely enshrined it lies, Perfect forever, all its beauties fast. Though this be all, still is it much to hold The consolation of remembrance pure, That cannot fade, or alter or wax old : If this be earnest of some future sure, In what winged words can its high worth be told I Till all be known, our hearts can but endure. SONNETS IN SHADOW. II. T F like the torch flame which some Druid hoar -"■ Quenched in a sacrifice, the spirit dies When sense and seeing from the well-loved eyes Fade utterly, and every empty shore In all the desolate universe evermore Even to search of God himself denies Its shape or being, what can heart devise Of hope or comfort for its anguish sore ? There is no comfort save the bitter thought That we at least alone our sorrow bear ; That if the soul for which we yearn is naught, It cannot writhe in ever fresh despair That we are parted ; and that death has wrought On us alone this hurt beyond repair. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXI. /^F all the myriad ways which lead to Hell ^-^ The lowest deep seeks that through Paradise. For every by-gone bliss we must the price Of agony with no abatement tell. Of each dear love Fate keeps the tally well, And scores the cost with an exactness nice Beyond a Shylock's reckoning. No device Can cheat her avarice. The Sisters sell, Not give, their boons ; and dearly all men pay To utmost farthing for what seems a gift. Yet when grief brings of settlement the day, The heart none of its load of debt would shift ; Though sold to be the slave of woe alway. In love it glories at its own unthrift. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXIL r T OW can we call this love which selfishly •^ -*■ Mourns its own pain ? Surely if love were true, So would it fill the soul as to undo All thought of self, how sharp soe'er pain be. How fares it with our dear loved dead, while we Are torn with anguish ? Do they suffer too, Thus to be parted? Does each morn anew Wake them to sorrow fresh ; each even see Them faint with separation's pain intense? How poor is love, when baffled thus we moan And reach them not, even by subtilest sense ; And poorer ftir, when our own woe alone Stifles the heart into indifference, Forgets to shudder at their griefs unknown. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXIII. X^THO has not, smiling, in some happiest day, — ^ ' Trifling with pain because so perfect seemed The present joy, the foolish heart esteemed It wise fate's jealousy thus to allay, — Said, " Love, should we be parted ! " and straightway Such stab of anguish felt, it might be deemed Already loss had come. Yet who has dreamed, Even with eyes dimmed so, what keen dismay And burning, blighting sorrow death can bring? " Should we be parted ! " murmur loving lips. But loving hearts still to the faith will cling That parting cannot be ; until death strips All its illusions from it, swallowing Comfort and faith ahke in bleak eclipse. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXIV. T T THEN two souls have been truly blent in one, ^ ^ It could not chance that one should cease to be And one remain alive. 'T were falsity To all that has been to count union done Because death blinds the sight. Such threads are spun By dear communion as e'en the dread Three Cannot or cut or disentangle. Sea From shore the moon may draw ; but two drops run Together, what may separate ? What thought Touched but one brain ? What pulse-beat, faint or high, Did not each heart share duly? There is naught In all we do or dream, from lightest sigh To weightiest deed, by which we are not taught We live together and together die. SONNETS IN SHADOW. VT'ET is the time so long, so long, so long ! -■■ And all the wiles by which we would persuade Our hearts to think it short are idly made. With leaden feet the bitter-hearted throng Of moments pass us, each a new, slow wrong. We fear no pang that may the life invade, But of the lagging days we are afraid, And shrink as slaves cringe from the stinging thong. We did not dream, until grief made us wise. Such vasts of time could stretch between day's eve And dew-wet morn. Never can joy surmise How long are sorrow's hours. Clocks deceive With formal count that mocks in specious lies : Time's measure truly know but those who grieve. SONNETS IN SHADOW. III. r\ FT death looks fair before our fevered eyes ^-^ As the rose-garden of the Niblung queen, Which glowed so jewel red and white and green ; But like the silken twine unto that prize Sole barrier, a film of doubt denies Us entrance. Slender till it scarce is seen, It yet is strong as wall of steel between Our life which is and what in darkness lies. Though even hope be lost, there is the chance Our loved may live, the thought our loved may know. Restrains from desperate self- deliverance. It is not dread of death or unknown woe, But lest they, watching with love's vigilance, Should see our deed and be heart-wounded so. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXV. A S some flame-crooked, venomed Malay blade ■^^^ Writhes snake-like through a dusky woman's side, Its film of poison deep within to hide. Does sorrow pierce, life's inmost to invade ; While human comfort would our hearts persuade That in the hand of Time doth balm abide. Shall time our hearts from the old love divide ? Vain were a hope could so our faith degrade. What have we left save fealty alone ? Shall we to Time this jewel yield, which yet Vows of a faith eternal made our own? The drop most bitter in woe's beaker set Is doubt of our soul's firmness : he has known Griefs sharpest who has feared he may forget ! SONNETS IN SHADOW. A ND yet is Time a mighty angel, strong •^^ For noble uses, who shall teach the soul That bliss is not of life the noblest goal. He who, woe-blind, staggers with love along Like a corpse-bearer, does it cruel wrong, And thrusts on his beloved dead, whose whole Desire to bless, the curse to be his dole. Love that is true, above the trivial throng Of hopes and fears, even o'er joy and pain, Lifts the soul up to duty's awful height. From sorrow's gloomy vales, who loves shall gain The holy hills, led onward through griefs night By love's white star, that steadfast doth remain To draw him upward by its heavenly light. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXVI. TX 7HEN souls new-born in darkness of the tomb ^ * Soar up ethereal unto loftier spheres. It scarce can be that earthly hopes and fears Cheer them or cumber longer. Though our doom Keep us intent on shadows in life's gloom, To them the light of truth in glory nears. That still our souls and theirs may walk as peers, That glow immortal must our sight illume. Let us no more watch phantoms ; on the fleet, Vain shows of life no longer fix our eyes. Toward eternal truth be set our feet. Until to theirs our lofty pathway rise ; For spirit-pure companionship be meet, And hold our way with theirs along the skies. SONNETS IN SHADOW. A S dying Roland to God solemnly, "^^- At awful Ronceval, lifted his glove Crimson with pagan gore, must we, above All petty passions, the heart steadfastly Hold up on high, all bleeding though it be From sorrow's wounds. By memory of the love Which has been ours, — though hope, like the ark's dove. Return no more, — all consecrate are we: The heart which once such love as we have known Has touched, forevermore is dedicate To holy use ; as when some god has shown, By portent high, the stone decreed by fate To be his shrine. No more it is our own : It is an altar where we humble wait. SONNETS IN SHADOW. XXVII. T X TE must be nobler for our dead, be sure, ^ ^ Than for the quick. We might their living eyes Deceive with gloss of seeming ; but all lies Were vain to cheat a prescience spirit-pure. Our soul's true worth and aim, however poor. They see who watch us from some deathless skies With glance death-quickened. That no sad surprise Sting them in seeing, be ours to secure. Living, our loved ones make us what they dream ; Dead, if they see, they know us as we are. Henceforward we must be, not merely seem. Bitterer woe than death it were by far To fail their hopes who love us to redeem ; Loss were thrice loss that thus their faith should mar. SONNETS IN SHADOW. "VT'ET if it were not so, nor anywhere ■*■ In all the universe lived on that soul Which had for us been all, — while stars still roll And the sun shines nor is the world less fair Though all their use is done, — still were our care To be what love believed us. Bliss or dole Were naught beside the longings which control Heroic hearts. Shut in by grim despair, Still is there left for them the high emprise, The flattery of love to justify. Despite the weight of woe forbids to rise. They strive, brave though forlorn, to soar so high Love's honor is unsmirched in all men's eyes, Since they make true its most exacting lie. SONAETS IN SHADOW. XXVIII. T IFE chooses pain, the sole inheritance -"-^ To all her children doled. What mother so A birthright that was evil could bestow ? Dull savage women brave the worst mischance To shield their babes ; and brutes will fight the lance That threats their cubs, be they however low. Against the mother-love all creatures show, To count man born of hate were dissonance. Ah, Mother mystical ! May it then be That pain, which seems so terrible a gift. Is the best blessing we could take from thee ? A little might the thought the darkness lift ; It were a light by which the way to see As when the moon breaks through the storm-cloud's rift. SONNETS IN SHABOIV. XXIX. (~\a, egotism of agony ! While we ^-^ Weep thus sore-stricken, filling earth with moan, The feet of those we love, through ways unknown, Brought into lands of living light may be. E'en our tear-blinded eyes can dimly see What heights are reached by sorrow's paths alone. Where heavenly joy and radiance shall atone For gloom and woe have held us utterly ; And sure our dead, loftier of soul, and now Free from the weakness human sight doth mar, Must death with power and vision new endow. If we, blind, groping, feel the truth afar. They wear its very radiance on their brow. Death takes a rush-light, but he gives a star ! LENVOL SONNETS IN SHADOW. JDUT what are empty words, when all is said, To voice the woe which is too wide for speech/ After the inexpressible we reach, And compass it no more than we the dead Call back. As once to joy our thoughts they led, Now need of patietice all the sad days teach; Still, '■'■Patience — patience — patience/''^ murmurs each, And ever: ^'■Patience, since all Joy is fled." Grief needs no proof; words cannot cure its smart. When it has striven to pour to the lees Its infinite of woe, the tortured heart. Panting from vain attetnpts its load to ease. Covers its lips, and steals away apart, There to sit silent with its memories. SOA^A'ETS IN SHADOW. 11. f^H, iJioii whose precious meiuory needs no speech While love which follows it none can impart, If these poor words may find thee where thou art. What they would say, but cannot, needs must reach Thy being's core. The grief which moans in each And chokes its own best utterance, the smart That stings beyond all tellings thy true heart M'^ill to itself with faultless prescience teach. Small meaning may they to all else transmit ; But thou wilt in them seem to touch my hand And seek my glance to C7ire the woe in it. Evefi though tears be unknowft in that land, Thine eyes must fill, since, reading what is W7'it, What is not written thou wilt understand /