33^: 
 
 1888 
 
** Under the (^kdar" 
 
 AND OIMKRS. 
 
 AU(;( SI A ( ilSroN WINIHKOP. 
 
 Cl.AKKK et CARKUTH, 
 
 340 & 344 Washington St. 
 
 1888. 
 
», .1/ 
 
 "Under the Cedar 
 
 n 
 
 AND OTHERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTA CLINTON WINTHROP. 
 
 DOSTCN : 
 
 CLARKE & CARRUTH, 
 
 340 & 344 Washington St. 
 
 1888. 
 
,W/7 UL5 
 
 ^0 5-S\^4 
 
LOVrSGLY DEZICATZD 
 
 TO I 
 
 i 
 Louisz CH.\M ii: 17 : X i 
 
 i 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Closeneiss 9 
 
 To J. G. WnrrriER ii 
 
 Tantalus 13 
 
 July in the Isle of Wight 15 
 
 The Wind 17 
 
 A Maiden's Question 18 
 
 All Souls' Day 20 
 
 "Outside" 22 
 
 His Message across the Sea 24 
 
 'Amor Meus' 26 
 
 "Protoplasm" 28 
 
 "Lighten Our Darkness" ....... 32 
 
 Parted 34 
 
 The Universal Question ;^6 
 
 A Village May Day Song, a. d. 1340 . . . 38 
 
 An Echo from Borneo 41 
 
 "The Pilgrim of Love" 42 
 
 A Word with the Children 44 
 
 A Child's Search 48 
 
 "That Sea" 51 
 
 The Dead Poet 53 
 
 ^'His Temple shall be among Men" . . . 54 
 
The First Laurel Leaf 55 
 
 "My Ship" 56 
 
 Soul to its Creator 58 
 
 Mid Ocean 59 
 
 'Death'? 61 
 
 "Vita est lux Hominum" 63 
 
 Two Women • .... 64 
 
 "Quae sub his figuris vere Latitas" ... 66 
 
 The Beggar's Petition 6S 
 
 QUEENSTOWN HaRBOUR 71 
 
 A Palm Sunday Dream 73. 
 
 "Loves' Lures or Under the Cedar'' . . 76 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 These scraps of rhyme together brought 
 From fly-leaves, letters, scribbled o'er, 
 
 In part from other tongues were caught 
 Yet most were planted long before, — 
 
 Germs quickened by a constant rain 
 From the twin wells of joy and pain. 
 
 Not sorted, labelled, each in place, 
 Or sharpened into weapons keen, 
 
 As when a wit with wits would race ; 
 
 Small food for " minds " may here be seen ! 
 
 For you my " scribbles," gentle wight. 
 Who, like their writer, cannot write ! 
 
CLOSENESS. 
 
 ^ Ceux que nous avons aimes et qtie nous avous perdus ne sent 
 plus ou ils etaient, mais Us sont partout et toujours ou nous 
 sommes" 
 
 They are not absent from our life, our being, 
 
 Whom thus you style, — " departed — gone away " — 
 
 Dead ? Yes, to sight ! but that thin veil concealing 
 Their lives from ours is pushed aside each day. 
 
 No strangers now, though we may not have known them, 
 And e'en their names have never reached our ear 1 
 
 If on these gravestones we one day are shown them, 
 Straightway are they owy friends, beloved and dear. 
 
 We know the promise, '' man shall live for ever," 
 But many till they lose some loved one wait 
 
 To feel, here in the body, nought can sever 
 
 Freed souls from those within the earthly state ! 
 
 They are around us when in summer lying 
 In spicy shade we listen to the pines, — 
 
 For when this world says most the next is trying 
 To show itself behind the outward signs ! 
 
CM. ZM3^ 
 
 
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 A r. 
 
 Its 
 
 So. 
 
TO J. G. WHIT TIER. 
 
 You tell as no one else can tell 
 
 Of common things the beauty, 
 And cast for us a magic spell 
 
 On working days and duty ; 
 The spade and plough are glorified, 
 
 Each honest man our neighbour, 
 For we have learned to clasp with pride 
 
 The rugged hand of labor. 
 
 Yet can your quiet tones ring out 
 
 In hottest condemnation. 
 And put old-world abuse to rout 
 
 With scathing indignation : 
 Still, ever in your fierce crusades 
 
 Just anger warm above us, 
 Your greater message never fades — 
 
 Our '' Father " still can love us ! 
 
" TANTALUS." 
 
 Eyes to behold the beauty 
 
 Of earth and its pleasant things ; 
 
 A heart that could gladly answer, 
 
 The summons Life's Morning brings : — 
 
 Joy, in the soul upspringing 
 
 Like the song of a fairy bird, 
 And Love, in whose eloquent silence 
 
 His strongest appeal is heard. — 
 
 To watch, with a comprehension 
 Of all that this '' love " might be 
 
 From its dawn to its high fulfillment,. 
 Yet never do more than See ! 
 
 Not even the bitter solace 
 
 * It passed, but it might have been 
 But to watch, while for ever standmg 
 
 With a bottomless gulf between ! 
 
TAXTALL'S. 
 
 We know how a dog is wistful. 
 And searches his master's face 
 
 With a yearning to understand him., 
 But oh, what a woeful case 
 
 If there in the rough skinned body 
 Dwelt a reasoning human soul. 
 
 Its utter abasement reading 
 In changeless entirety whole 1 
 
 Imprisoned and chained for ever 
 
 To run at his equals' feet ; 
 A soul with its love and longing — 
 
 Yet a do(:[ in the common street ! 
 
 O Tantalus ! fabled story 
 
 Has pictured your hungr\- eyes, 
 
 And your hands outstretched to gather 
 A fruit that forever flies : 
 
 Ko longer you mourn, a captive 
 On Tartarus' gloomy shore, 
 
 But living you move among us 
 And your hunger is doubly sore I 
 
--e^hrar: 
 
 ^e ""^zzk ^diow tfe !jn^is 
 
 l^ 
 
 Aiiip lie aer^ge at swea: wftnepcyei: 
 
 Or t&inag&. the gretsi .inif annsar o^: 
 Tie tfa umy. pink-icwsKif bTanrfsie graas. 
 
 ^^ ower OS t&e tmilmg- b.-mntas 
 OimM. dag-roses, pink jmi whits. 
 
 Ciww ^ t&e kme with sannntar snldiami;, 
 AaA ffiSf mock tbe TowgmvJ- wight. 
 
i6 JUL Y IN THE TSLE OF WIGHT. 
 
 Beside the stile into the cornfield, 
 In feathery tufts of grasses green, 
 
 Like cottage children gazing skywards, 
 The bright-eyed marguerites are seen. 
 
 Beyond, far out in blazing sunshine, 
 The well-filled wheat ears slowly turn 
 
 To golden brown above the poppies 
 That mid the " Kaiser-blumen " burn. 
 
 Across the lane tall hazel bushes, 
 
 With young nuts clustered, shade a pool, 
 
 Where meadow sweet and myosotis 
 Grow on the margin damp and cool. 
 
 There, on the surface of the water. 
 
 Unruffled by a breath of air. 
 Among dark leaves the water lilies 
 
 Their golden hearts wide open wear. 
 
THE WIND. 
 
 O to be borne away 
 On the wings of the wild North wind ! 
 Then surely the soul would find 
 
 The light of a grander day. 
 
 Away from the city street, 
 Where the sunset crimson and gold 
 Burns red on the pavement cold 
 
 So trodden by weary feet. 
 
 Afar through the wind-tossed sky, 
 Over valley and lofty hill, 
 To the sea ! where the gale's fierce will 
 
 Goads the ocean steeds to fly. 
 
 Yet faster the soul's desire 
 Can speed than the storm-wind fleet. 
 Outstripping the tempest's feet 
 
 Or the thunder's herald of fire ! 
 
THE MAIDEN'S QUES'llON. 
 
 Love ! — what is love? for I fain would discover 
 All the new wonder, the joy, the surprise, 
 
 Hid in this mystery deep as the ocean. 
 True as the pole-star, far-off as the skies. 
 
 Fingers, you tremble, though Love never pressed you ; 
 
 Eyes, you are downcast and filling with tears ! 
 Lips, you are smiling with no one to answer ; 
 
 Heart ! you axe throbbing with hopes and with fears. 
 
 Here stand my feet at the gate of the Future, 
 Waiting to hear the great secret revealed, 
 
 Touch me, O Love, though they say you bring sorrow ; 
 Soon let your bitter-sweet fount be unsealed. 
 
 Love 1 — what is love? for mine eyes they are blind- 
 fold, 
 
 Here in the light of a mid-summer day ; 
 What is around me I guess without seeing, 
 
 Praying that Love take the bandage away. 
 
THE MAIDEN'S QUESTION. rg 
 
 Dear one unknown ! I have notliing to give you, 
 
 Only this heart to be laid at your feet, 
 Only a soul — yet the soul of a woman, 
 
 Ready for you, undivided, complete I 
 
 Power most divine ! oh delay not your coming, 
 Bringing the knowledge I seek without fears ; 
 
 Grander your wisdom than sages could teach me, 
 All of earth's smiles would I give for your tears ! 
 
 Love ! — what is Love ? — for I only am dreaming 
 What he may be ; yet my sleep is so light 
 
 Through these closed lids shine the rays of his coming ; 
 Wake thee, mv soul, to t'ne Quenchless delight ! 
 
ALL SOULS' DAY. 
 
 Souls of the faithful ! patiently awaiting 
 The joy celestial and the heavenly feast, 
 
 You at the aUar now commemorating 
 
 Here we present before our great High Priest. 
 
 You are assured of glory everlasting, 
 
 Soon, patient souls, your hope will be complete ; 
 We still may fall, though armed with prayer and 
 fasting, 
 
 Smce this weak mortal clogs our eager feet. 
 
 Some of your company have watched long ages 
 Of calm endurance pass in measure slow; 
 
 Some, ah their names are fresh on memory's pages- 
 Were not among you one short year ago ! 
 
 You, waiting souls, how could we but remember ^ 
 If out of sight most close are you at hand 
 
 When All Souls' Day in every bleak November 
 Records the members added to your band. 
 
ALL SOUL'S DAY. Jtr 
 
 Dear ones invisible ! henceforth disunion 
 
 Betwixt us is for ever swept away, 
 Your hearts read ours in the one vast communion^ 
 
 As you pass forward to the perfect day. 
 
 Not long shall last this outward separation, 
 Soon shall we too draw back this earthly veil 
 
 To wait with you " in hope " the consummation 
 Of His sure promise, Who can never fail. 
 
 For you, departed, and for us remaining 
 
 We here the offering of the altar make ; 
 Pleading that both, a speedy grace obtaining. 
 To see the very face of (rod may wake ! 
 
OUTSIDE. 
 
 In the seethe and the whirl ol our Hving, 
 This tangle of pleasure and pain, — 
 
 A soul crowd receiving and giving, — 
 Alone some hearts ever remain I 
 
 Only lifeless is life if the being 
 
 Lights not with the innermost flame ; 
 
 Outside stand these hungry, while seeing 
 The mystery but as a name. 
 
 Alas ! what are measureless glories 
 By saint and by prophet foretold, 
 
 With this life unanswered.^ — their stories 
 For the future can only unfold. 
 
 The Then, not the Now, is forever. 
 Out of reach drops the gift of to-day ; 
 
 They only interpret the Never 
 Outside of this Present who stay ! 
 
OUTSIDE. 
 
 2J 
 
 On their forehead though patience be graven 
 
 In their eyes He a loss and a pain ; 
 Tliough the wreck too floats on to a haven 
 
 Yet some things come never again ! 
 
HIS MESSAGE ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 Darling ! /s it " a separation, 
 
 The pathway barring between us two, 
 
 Lashing its waves in exultation, 
 
 Drowning the words I speak to you? " 
 
 Is it a mask that smiles, dissembling 
 Shadowy caverns where lost ships lie ; 
 
 Sweet, as you call me are you trembling 
 Lest in the coming I too, may die ? 
 
 Ah ! this sea with its solemn dirges 
 
 Well do I love though it wakes your fear ; 
 
 What if my voice is stilled ! — its surges 
 Carry my thought to your loving ear. 
 
 Eai'ih veils secrets that seem as cruel ! 
 
 Tenderly clasped in its far depths cold 
 Many a priceless hoarded jewel 
 
 Sure of a finding my sea doth hold. 
 
THE MESSAGE ACROSS THE SEA. 25 \ 
 
 Dearest, why at the storm wind shiver ? 
 
 Come, as I daily come, to the strand, 
 Softly then will the spray deliver 
 
 Kisses of mine on your cheek and hand. 1 
 
 No dreary chasm our hearts to sever 
 
 This ocean stands as a living sign. 
 Surety, Love, of the grand forever 
 
 When nothing can part your life and mine I i 
 
'•'AMOR MEUS." 
 
 spoken by S, Agnes. 
 
 My Love is as a crimson rose 
 
 For thorns about his path are met ; 
 
 Around his head a crown there glows 
 With many a blood-red jewel set. 
 
 My Love he is a king ! but this 
 High throne of his is like a tree ! 
 
 His hands and feet I seek to kiss 
 But oh ! I cannot get them free. 
 
 My Love is as the lily fair ; 
 
 Beloved, speak ! art thou in pain, — 
 Thou art so white, — can grief prevail 
 
 In One who over kings doth reign } 
 
 My Love he holds so vast a sway 
 
 That wlien he sighs the sun grows dim ; 
 
 His smile turns midnight into day 
 And draws whole nations unto Him ! 
 
AMOR ME US. 
 
 Three nobles near my Love have place ; 
 
 One evermore on him must gaze, 
 One wears his very form and face, 
 
 Her weeping eyes one dares not raise. 
 
 My Love a kingly progress made 
 One time, afar in eastern lands, 
 
 His robe was of the purple shade, 
 A slender sceptre in his hands. 
 
 My Love, — would you his name unfold 
 Its sweetness melts the very soul, — 
 
 'Tis Jesus/ Jesus/ and I hold 
 
 In Him the world entire and whole I 
 
PROTOPLASM. 
 
 " The vital substance of the xvholc universe, identical for one 
 and all, is semi-fluid, transparent, colourless, structureless : 
 
 to form plants, animals, and men. A distinct 
 
 nnd special endoiument of ivhich ive know absolutely nothing." 
 See the " Supernatural in Nature." jf. W. Reynolds. 
 
 So you have found it at last ! the secret, the root of 
 
 our being, 
 Sought for with knife and with scalpel, guessed at by 
 
 science and reason ; 
 Ever eluding the searcher, yet nerving the arm of the 
 
 seeking. 
 AVhat is it, now that you hold it, labelled like each of 
 
 the members, 
 Muscles and nerves that it quickens, — is it a fluid, an 
 
 essence 
 Pointing that tale of the fire Prometheus stole from the 
 
 heavens ? 
 You who have learned to make lightning can you 
 
 store tills for occasion ! 
 
PROTOPLASM. 2g 
 
 Touching and seeing are trifles — to you, — but it yet 
 has been whispered 
 
 How this last finding of yours no further repUes to 
 your questions : 
 
 Now, though the man is reduced, returned to original 
 gases 
 
 Still you have this that remains, slipping 'twixt the- 
 ories and hngers ! 
 
 Strange ! that you sages are powerless like the vast 
 herd far beneath )ou, — 
 
 Poor silly fools, priest-deluded, deeming a God must 
 have made them ! 
 
 We too have that we acknowledge, — still cannot solve 
 or unravel ; 
 
 Surely a presence discerning, witnessed of none of our 
 senses. 
 
 Yet of a certainty filling tlie uttermost bounds of exist- 
 ence, — 
 
 Aye ! and the heights far beyond where you even 
 never have ventured ! 
 
 One is your question with ours, and we ' fools ' can 
 read the solution : — 
 
JO PROTOPLASM. 
 
 Would that }0U knew how its key-note Hes closest a 
 
 little child's fingers, 
 Far out of reach of your weighing, your measuring 
 
 tapes, and your sifting 1 
 We, the weak ones of the earth, the feeble, the simple, 
 
 the children. 
 Read the vast mystery clearly, entering into its glory 
 Through the low portals that faith guards closely, the 
 
 while she can pass them : 
 Never by questionings troubled further before us there 
 
 opens 
 Wonder succeeding to wonder, bounded of space nor 
 
 horizon. 
 Life which you ticket so coolly, this, the last door at 
 
 which science 
 Knocks with now impotent fingers, calling with never 
 
 an answer, 
 Opens not into but out of the kingdoms of sight and 
 
 mere reason. 
 Not as a \-apour, an essence, undefined stands your 
 
 answer there waiting, 
 But as a Presence Immortal, of all tilings the birth and 
 
 the ending, — 
 One whom you know not, while He is the Wisdom, 
 
 the Power, you are seeking. 
 
31 PROTOPLAS.IT. 
 
 ' Life ' have you called Him? yea, ' Life ' most truly is 
 
 chief of his titles 
 Since ever)- fragment of life through Him and of Him 
 
 holds its being I 
 Though you have left Him you live, and therefore He 
 
 never has left you 
 But patiently waits till He teach you two words, and 
 
 their wisdom, — " Our Father ! " 
 
"LIGHTEN OUR DARKNESS!" 
 
 A CRY. 
 
 We are dumb but Thou canst speak, 
 Thou art strong and we are weak ; 
 We know naught Thou knowest all, 
 Thou art firm while we but fall ; — 
 
 Thou the morn and we the night, — 
 
 Son of Mary, grant us light ! 
 
 We are hungry, Thou canst fill ; 
 
 Tears we weep that Thou canst still ; 
 
 We on earth with longing cry. 
 
 Thou from heaven dost satisfy ; — 
 Thou the morning, we the night, — 
 Son of Mary ! grant us light ! 
 
 We are smitten, Thou art whole, 
 Thou to joy canst turn our dole. 
 We are deaf but Thou canst hear, 
 Thou hast safety we have fear ; — 
 
 We are smirched and Thou art white. 
 
 Son of Mary ! grant us light ! 
 
LIGHTEN OUR DARKA'ESS. 
 
 We are mortal, Thou divine ; 
 Ours is time, "forever" Thine, 
 This our kingship soon is o'er 
 Thine endures for ever more ; 
 
 Thou the sun and we the night. 
 
 Son of Mary, grant us hght ! 
 
 We are stained. Thou pure as snow. 
 
 Yet our human Thou dost know ; 
 
 We must (/ie — but Thou dost hve ! 
 
 We are asking — do Thou give ; — 
 Thou the noonday, we the night, — 
 Son of Mary ! grant us Hght ! 
 
 Thou who this our flesh didst take 
 Force our d.eaming souls to wake ; 
 Call us, Jesu ! that we be 
 Chosen, faithful, unto Thee ; — 
 
 Day Star ! dissipate our night, — 
 
 Son of Mary ! grant us light ! 
 
 33 
 
PARTED. 
 
 Tonight the happy children all are singing 
 Glad carols, for the solemn midnight chime, 
 
 No darkness but a shining light is bringing, 
 Fairer than high noon in the summer-time ! 
 
 Only a few more hours 1 and in the stable 
 The Child of Mary faithful hearts behold ; 
 
 Absent in body yet in spirit able 
 
 To greet the Babe by ancient seers foretold. 
 
 O fairest night ! all nights and days excelling : 
 No voice but hers dare breathe thy wondrous 
 tale ; 
 
 In awe we wait for Him who has been dwelling 
 Hidden awhile behind that stainless veil. 
 
 Not quite undimmed the joy as we are kneeling 
 To watch our Day- Star's rising once again, 
 
 Through this rapt waiting of the hour is stealing 
 A yearning for one face that teaches pain. 
 
PARTED. 5-5 
 
 Beloved, is it true this solemn season 
 Of sacred joy shall never see you more 
 
 Here in our midst ? O God despite the reason, 
 We cannot drown this throb of anguish sore. 
 
 Light of our eyes ! today knew no escaping 
 The bitter sigh, the hot rebellious strife, 
 
 Against His will ; our soul each hour was shaping 
 Your thoughts and actions in that strange new 
 hfe. 
 
 Now know we truly you are ours no longer, 
 
 But vowed and sealed to Mary's Son and King, 
 
 Would that our faith were but a little stronger, 
 To cure with love for Him the parting's sting I 
 
 Yet, Lord ! Thou kiwivesf, and Thy heart is 
 caring 
 For or.rs, — constrain us by Thy love, and then 
 These souls of ours Thy handmaid's rapture 
 sharing 
 Shall also answer to Thy Will, Amen ! 
 
THE UNIVERSAL QUESTION. 
 
 Why was that bhghted, root, and branch and leaf, 
 That should have stood with the forest monarchs 
 green ? 
 
 Why was the spring filled deep with tears of grief 
 Where cool bright water should alone have been ? 
 
 Why is the empty hearth, where never fire 
 
 May kindle with its warmth and radiant cheer? 
 
 Why these implanted-longings, hope, desire, 
 Elsewhere most innocent yet wrongful here ? 
 
 Why was it choked, the brook that should have grown 
 
 To be a river ere it gained the sea? 
 Why is the fliirest kingdom daily shown 
 
 To those in bonds, who never can be free ? 
 
 Why is the desert field, where never seed 
 May fall to quicken in the sun and shower? 
 
 Why leaps the thought that cannot grow to deed, 
 The burning wish without the gift of power? 
 
THE UNIVERSAL QUESTION. 37 
 
 Why is it so disfigured, altered, scarred. 
 
 Which once was made to " image " the Divine? 
 
 Why is the web all \\TOUght awry and marred, 
 Where gold and silver traceries should shine ? 
 
 World ! are thy questionings but vain, — for none 
 
 In all the universe to satisfy? 
 There is an Answer ! — and there is but one — 
 
 Thou art our Father, and Thou knowest why ! 
 
A VILLAGE MAY DAY SONG.— (A. D., 1340.) 
 
 THE SUMMONS. 
 
 Wake ! wake ! the sun is shining, 
 Our wreaths must we be twining, 
 Come, maidens all, arise ! 
 
 With joy the woods are ringing. 
 The meadow-lark is singing. 
 
 The May-buds ope their eyes. 
 
 O'er all the bushes tangled 
 The cobwebs, dew bespangled. 
 Shine out with rainbow hue. 
 
 Among the fresh green grasses 
 Where now the spring wind passes 
 Peep out the bells of blue. 
 
 Wild rose shoots pink and tender. 
 Anemones so slender, 
 
 Must all be gathered soon. 
 
A VILLAGE MAY DAY SONG. sq 
 
 The cowslips too are waiting ; 
 Come out ! nor stand debating, 
 We must be back ere noon. 
 
 THE RETURN. 
 
 See, lads ! our quest is over, 
 Each field and woodland rover, 
 Returns at last with glee ; 
 
 For now each bonny maiden 
 With bud and blossom laden, 
 Desires the Queen to see. 
 
 None flout and none are jealous ! 
 Each lass and lad are zealous, 
 
 (Last year the half did frown !) 
 
 How swiftly move our fingers, 
 The weaving never lingers ; — 
 Behold the finished crown ! 
 
 The maids forget their graces, 
 The youths all take their places. 
 And then, with chorus sweet, 
 
40 A VILLAGE MAY DAY SONG, 
 
 The Maypole tall and stately 
 We leave, and more sedately 
 
 Pass down the village street ; — 
 
 The grey old church we'er filling 
 For here, with love most willing 
 The crowning must be seen. 
 
 Sweet Mary, Maid and Mother I 
 We choose thee, and no other, 
 To be our one May Queen I 
 
AN ECHO FROM BORNEO. 
 
 '* Where is the Hght ? we He in bonds of darkness 1 
 Life is so hard, and, oh, we do not know 
 
 Where we are going ; all the gods are silent, 
 Our land is desolate with sin and woe. 
 
 ** Some One has made us, but we shrink in terror 
 Before the greatness that we dimly feel. 
 
 Lands of the sunset ! do you hold no message 
 That might some comfort to our hearts reveal ? 
 
 ** Have you no secret from our spirit hidden ? 
 
 Come over, help us, tell it, for we die. 
 And fall away into an unknown darkness. 
 
 O help us quickly ! do not pass us by. 
 
 " O come to us, in spite of loss and danger. 
 
 For there are many here with outstretched hands ; 
 
 And He, the Unknown One, men say you worship 
 Does He not care for even eastern lands? " 
 
THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. 
 
 I saw Love sleeping where the wild bees feed, 
 Close, close, I drew to grasp — the empty air ! 
 
 His shadow flitted o'er the dewy mead, 
 I looked, and only saw a swallow there. 
 
 Love whispered to me once beside the sea. 
 So tender-sweet his accents to mine ear 
 
 My heart stood still to listen — then, ah me ! — 
 Only the waves' low plashing could I hear ! 
 
 One passed me singing, in the woodland green. 
 Such wild glad notes ne'er chanted mortal bird ; 
 
 Long, long I tracked the minstrelsy unseen 
 In vain, — then knew I it was Love I heard ! 
 
 Love wrapped me to his heart one balmy night, — 
 That soft caress awoke such joy supreme 
 
 My soul brimmed over with her new delight ; — 
 But morning broke, and it was but a dream ! 
 
THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. 43 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 So Love I follow all the wide world through, ; 
 
 His pilgrim, though but these of him I hold, — 
 
 A dream, a song, a whisper ! — yet 'tis true ] 
 
 Who follows on shall yet his face behold ! \ 
 
A WORD WITH THE CHILDREN. 
 
 Boys and girls ! do you remember 
 How they told us all last year, 
 
 In the "Advocate," some stories 
 That we all were grieved to hear ? 
 
 Showing how the little children, 
 
 In the Eastern lands afar. 
 Often are not loved and cared for 
 
 As our darling babies are. 
 
 For the cruel heathen parents 
 Oft times treat them very ill, 
 
 Hurt, neglect them, ah ! and sometimes. 
 Those wee helpless creatures kill ! 
 
 Of the brave priests then they told us,. 
 
 Bearing Jesus and the Cross, 
 To win back those savage people 
 
 Gently from their sin and loss. 
 
A IVORD WITH THE CHILDREN. 4s 
 
 As you know, they seek the babies^ 
 Whom from death they often buy^ 
 
 That they may baptise and rear them 
 For our Saviour's home on high. 
 
 Then, dear boys and girls, they asked you 
 
 For the pennies you would spare 
 If you love the gentle Jesus, 
 
 And His tender work would share. 
 
 So I think you'd like to listen 
 
 To a story, which I know 
 Is quite true because I heard it 
 
 Happen just a month ago. 
 
 'Twas a little girl named Mary, 
 
 Nearly eight like some of you. 
 Who had read those very stories 
 
 And knew well that they were true. 
 
 Now her sister long had promised 
 
 When a certain day came round 
 She would give her darling Mary 
 
 All to spend one golden pound I 
 
A WORD WITH THE CHILDREX. 
 
 Just on what she most might wish for, 
 Every penny she should spend 
 
 "Too much," did you say, " to give her? " 
 Ah, but wait and hear the end ! 
 
 How she skipped about her sister 
 When the day appointed came, 
 
 For the first two hours her planning 
 Was for doll, and book, and game. 
 
 Then she suddenly grew silent, 
 
 Creeping to her sister's knee 
 *' Sissie dear," she softly whispered, 
 
 *' You are all so kind to me 
 
 "That I want to give those shillings 
 All to Jesus, please take five 
 
 For the Nazareth Sisters, Mother 
 Helped when she was here alive. 
 
 And I want to send the others 
 To those mission-priests to buy. 
 
 Just one baby back for Jesus, 
 
 Would they. Sissy ? write and try. 
 
A IVORD WITH THE CHILDREN. 47 
 
 "And — and do you think," she faltered 
 
 "" Though they live so far away, 
 They would name my baby Mary, — 
 
 So that I for it could pray? " 
 
 This was done. Now don't think, children. 
 
 Cents are all too small to save ; 
 They can hold more self-denial 
 
 Than the gold that Mary gave ! 
 
 For our King and Leader, Jesus, 
 
 Prizes eveij gift of love, 
 From your hands, a shining jewel 
 
 For His crown in Heaven above- 
 
A CHILD'S SEARCH. 
 
 The child was playing in a wood 
 Where trees all tall and leafy stood, 
 And thought to find the forest's king 
 Whose sight some wondrous gift would bring. 
 
 He marked the oak-tree's hoary head 
 P'ar o'er the glade its shadow spread, 
 And knew that from that sturdy side 
 Fair ships are hewn to stem the tide. 
 
 There too uprose the lofty pine 
 Whose rustling needles, long and fine, 
 Made solemin music in the breeze ; — 
 The forest's king was none of these ! 
 
 The noblest tree he could not find, 
 So left, one day, the wood behind. 
 And took a narrow track, that lay 
 Before his feet for many a day. 
 
A CHILD'S SEARCH. 4Q 
 
 It led through many foreign lands, 
 It crossed the desert's burning sands ; 
 No more a child, he did intend 
 To trace it on unto its end ! 
 
 At length, before a stony hill. 
 
 It stopped, and there the youth stood still, 
 
 For at its summit seemed to grow 
 
 A tree whose shape he did not know. 
 
 Two branches stretched athwart the sky 
 As if to draw all passer's-by ; 
 Too far to see what on them grew 
 The slender stripling nearer drew. 
 
 The hill was strewn with many a stone, 
 There grew among them thorns alone. 
 But gazing up that rocky height 
 He saw the tree gleam foith with light. 
 
 Then knew he that the search was o'er 
 And he need travel on no more ; 
 Of thorns and stones he took small heed 
 But up the hill he climbed with speed. 
 
JO A CHILD'S SEARCH. 
 
 They cut, they tore his hands and feet, — 
 A marvel ! lo, the pain was sweet ! 
 One only object could he see 
 Until he stood beneath the Tree. 
 
 Although its boughs of leaves v/ere bare 
 Light, warmth, and shelter all were there, 
 And when he upward raised his eyes 
 They overflowed with sweet surprise. 
 
 That priceless Fruit that hung above 
 Pierced through his very soul with love ; — 
 Ah, then he fell upon his knees 
 For he had found the King of Trees ! 
 
THAT SEA. 
 
 There lies a Sea, whose bounds no man can measure, 
 Whose plashing waves know neither ebb or tide ; 
 
 Though many pass its borders none have leisure 
 To bring us tidings of the other side. 
 
 Like that strange mountain of the eastern fable 
 
 Attracting vessels to it from afar, 
 So are these waters, for they too are able 
 
 To draw all living things that were and are. 
 
 Some eyes behold it ever closely gleaming. 
 While many scarcely think that it can be ; 
 
 Yet, whether strangely or familiar seeming, 
 All footsteps turn one day toward that Sea. 
 
 Sooner or later all attempt the crossing. 
 Unwitting of the time that it may take, 
 
 For oft the waves are high, in fury tossing, 
 Though sometimes tranquil as a summer lake. 
 
j2 THAT SEA. 
 
 In meadows green the little children straying 
 
 Heed not near by the great Sea's murmuring voice. 
 
 But when it summons them they leave their playing 
 And at the tender mighty call rejoice. 
 
 With eager smiling face and outstretched finger 
 
 They point to that far-off horizon line, 
 As if to that which will not let them linger, 
 
 Drawing their feet where those blue waters shine. 
 
 And we ? in our ears also ever nearer 
 
 Echo those solemn waves that call us too. 
 
 Bidding us count those unseen shores far dearer 
 Than everything we yet have come to view. 
 
 O sea ! O sea ! with summons all-prevaiUng 
 
 You draw our feet toward your silvery strand. — 
 
 Amen, — we come ! and with a hope unfailing 
 Press forward to that unknown further land ! 
 
THE DEAD POET. 
 
 He %\TOte for us who have no voice to speak 
 The yearning that consumes our ven' soul ; 
 
 His tender chords are ours, if we are weak 
 In utterance his thought in us is whole ! 
 
 ^^'e liie those words of his ! our silent tongue 
 Trembled with murmurs half distinct when he 
 
 Spoke out for us the longings that had strung 
 Our hearts and opened these dim eyes to see. 
 
 His pen the .\ngel tipped with heavenly fire ; 
 
 Far up with Tasso. Dante, now his seat : 
 With pain we too are quickened and desire, — 
 
 Lord, for thy speech can we be ever meet? 
 
 Only dumb dogs awhile, and yet — some day — 
 Some where, some how, — deep in our hearts we- 
 know 
 
 These bonds and fetters all wiJJ drop away 
 And all our frozen words to utterance flow ! 
 
HIS TEMPLE SHALL BE AMONG MEN. 
 
 That tent was blest that a phrophet's band, 
 
 Bore on for years through a desert land ; 
 
 Commanded, ruled by a plan divine 
 
 Its every part was a solemn sign : 
 But the glory it screened from the eyes of men 
 By a fairer curtain was veiled since then ! 
 
 The Temple of old was vast to see 
 
 And filled the land with its majesty ; 
 
 The nations afar declared its fame, 
 
 And ages re-echo down its name ; 
 Yet the Presence it sheltered hath been shown 
 In a fitter shrine than of carven stone 1 
 
 Ofie only home hath the wide earth seen 
 Where the Lord of Life well housed hath been? 
 One dwelling wherein the mighty Guest 
 Could enter smiling and joy to rest, — 
 And this home wliere a god could hold high state 
 Was the breast of a maiden immaculate ! 
 
THE FIRST LAUREL LEAF TO L. C. ^L 
 
 Can this be waking? am I sleep-deluded 
 By oft repeated dreams of hope, deferred 
 
 At every sunrise till my soul grew weary 
 
 With falsest hopes and vrhispers, nightly heard ? 
 
 And yester-eve again, Morgana's vision 
 Mocked me, elusive o'er the desert sand, 
 
 Till in despair I v/ept, and woke — O marvel ! — 
 To find a laurel leaf within my hand ! 
 
 The seeds, tear-watered, now at length have quickened , 
 The night is breaking in the dawn's first gleam ; 
 
 And Spring, my spring is here ! so slow in coming. 
 Speak I pov/ers of song 1 and tell me if I dream ? 
 
 As for the crowm itself my soul in patience 
 Can I possess until the end be known. 
 
 Laugh with me skies of May ! sing for me, thrushes ! 
 For me ! for me ! a laurel leaf has grown ! 
 
MY SHIP. 
 
 It was the dream of childish days, 
 When, through a shifting golden haze, 
 
 I watched each far-off stately sail 
 Across the future's trackless sea. 
 And one I deemed must come for me 
 
 With store of many a precious bale. 
 
 Silent upon the busy strand, 
 
 W^ith straining eye and outstretched hand, 
 
 I waited till they touched the shore 
 And listened for the owner's name, — 
 But it was never mine that came. 
 
 No merchandise for me they bore ! 
 
 And now the days are turned to years. 
 Long dried are all the bitter tears 
 
 By that old childish self once shed ; 
 A hundred ships have crossed the tide 
 For eager friends on every side 
 
 Yet neither hope or trust is dead, 
 
MY SHIP. ST 
 
 But live and ever brighter glow. 
 For standing here, I smile to know 
 
 How, far across that rolling sea, 
 Each further hour that here I wait 
 Adds richer treasure to the freight 
 
 With which they lade my ship for me. 
 
THE SOUL TO ITS CREATOR. 
 
 Take Thou this spark, which thou didst will to be, 
 
 O Cause, Original, of all men see ! 
 Draw to Thyself this tiny flame of life, 
 
 Housed in the dwelling Thou didst also will ; 
 Lo ! I am bruised with all this mortal strife, — 
 
 Thou source of longings earth nor men can still. 
 
 Here, from this prisoned nook of time and place, 
 Forth have I gazed through boundless realms of 
 space : 
 
 Full oft Thy garment could I not behold, 
 Till blackest horror made me faint and fail, 
 
 Yet by my being still Thy hem I hold, — 
 Though this the mortal is Thy darkest veil. 
 
 Take me ! — nay, that is needless ! — I am Thine, 
 
 Created, held within a grasp divine. 
 However dark those depths that fear may sound. 
 
 However far the silent skies above 
 Thou, Who hast made them, art the more profound, 
 
 The higher, O my God ! for Thou art Love. 
 
MID-OCEAN. 
 
 In the great cup of the ocean 
 Rimmed to the arching sky, 
 We seem but idly floating 
 As night and day sUp by. 
 
 Yet are we moving onward 
 
 To gain some far-off strand, — 
 
 Alone in this vast hollow 
 As of a giant hand. 
 
 Like Brandan and the hermits, 
 Who traversed many seas 
 
 To reach a fairer haven 
 Than the Hesperides. 
 
 Through varied mist and sunshine. 
 Bright noons and evenings grey,. 
 
 Till suddenly before us 
 We see at break of day. 
 
A> MID- OCEAN. 
 
 Time falling like a garment 
 
 To drop into the west, 
 For they gleam out before us, — 
 
 The islands of the blessed. 
 
 Vain are the dreams, the watching, 
 Vain are the yearnings sore 
 
 To sight on the horizon 
 That line of golden shore. 
 
 For many a shifting harbour, 
 
 Long days and months between, 
 Beloved, lie before us 
 Ere those dear isles are seen. 
 
 Yet dreams are but truth-shadows. 
 
 And he with vision clear 
 Lives ever for that moment 
 
 Which brings their substance near. 
 
DEATH. 
 
 Call you that Death that casts that death aside 
 Binding Prometheus to the granite rock, 
 
 Chaining the motor spring of truest pride, 
 
 Barring the door that hungry hands must knock? 
 
 Nay ! this is Life at last,— so long desired. 
 
 To quench the burning thirst of God inspired ! 
 
 Call you this Death that opens blended eyes, 
 Bringing the dawn to children of the night, 
 
 Cleaving the tomb from whence the Psychs flies, 
 And teaching stammering tongues to speak aright ? 
 
 Nay ! this is Life, — the Life ordained to sway. 
 With rule immortal over time and clay. 
 
 Call you this Death that ends a combat dread, — 
 Whence seemed there neither respite or release, 
 
 Where heai-ts were riven and the soul's blood shed, — 
 Bidding the tempest of the passions cease ? 
 
 Nay, this is Life ! — the sunshine after rain, 
 Spring after winter, health in lieu of pain ' 
 
62 DEA TH. 
 
 Call you this Death that breaks the mirror dim. 
 Where pictured stood the Leader of our Hne, 
 
 To show Him face to face, mid cherubim, — 
 The woman's seed and yet the All-Divine? 
 
 Nay, this at last is Life ! — Life, boundless, free ! 
 Our birthday, brothers, to eternity ! 
 
"VITA EST LUX HOMINUM." 
 
 Thou art the Way these weary feet are seeking 
 Among the weeds and thorns ourselves have sown 
 
 By exaltation of the creature's reason 
 
 To gauge and measure a Creator's throne. 
 
 Thou art the Truth for which our hands are groping, 
 
 That jev/el rashly cast of us away 
 Because divinity dared claim submission 
 
 From this — a spark within a house of clay. 
 
 Thou art the Life from v/hich we turn inipatient 
 The shallow burning cup of time to drain, 
 
 Taught by the guide, our own great little reason. 
 One hour of joy outweighs an age's pain. 
 
 Thou art the Love for which our souls are fainting 
 The while v/e scoff to think that Thou canst be. 
 
 That Thou declarest, — God and man Incarnate, 
 The all-sufficing for eternity ! 
 
TWO WOMEN. 
 
 Look you ! how to chose between ? 
 One has lost what should have been 
 
 All a lifetime's pride and crown : 
 She with nothing has not thrown 
 Aught to dogs ; — by this alone 
 
 Earns the other scoff and frown ? 
 
 Filled the one a queenly seat, 
 Ere before a traitor's feet 
 
 Ruined lay her high estate. 
 Disinherited from birth, 
 Is the second better worth, 
 
 Save in name, an honoured fate ? 
 
 Smirched the one's white robe for she- 
 Sought the heat too eagerly, 
 
 Deeming safety far too sure. 
 Pshaw, this other ! what her claim, 
 (Who might never touch the flame) 
 
 That we should proclaim her pure?* 
 
7'PFO WOMEN. 6s 
 
 Prone the one in mire and dust, 
 Mid the broken shards of trust, — 
 
 Turns from her each passing eye : — 
 Many style this other friend 
 Yet what virtues may they lend 
 
 Her with never trust to buy ? 
 
 One possessed a jewel rare, 
 Zoned about with tender care ; — 
 
 Woe the greedy, thievish hand ! 
 Sh-e who, watching, could but hold 
 Worthless stones in place of gold 
 
 No whit higher dare may stand. 
 
 Well ! the judgment passes me ! — 
 One thing more is clear to see 
 
 Of these women to be true ; 
 Both have drained a cup of woe- 
 Both the fire of torment know — 
 
 God, mayhap, will weigh their due ! 
 
QUAE SUB HIS FIGURIS VERE LATITAS. T. 
 
 Why will ye pass Him by, — 
 
 The patient One who waits 
 
 Close to your palace gates, 
 Often scarce sheltered from the wintry sky ? 
 
 Is it that wealth and pride 
 
 Of our mere earthly fame 
 
 Can blind you to this Name, 
 And from such lineage turn your minds aside ? 
 
 Alas for you this thing I 
 
 How at your very door 
 
 The ragged crowd press o'er 
 His threshold to the presence of the King : 
 
 Where each receives from Him 
 
 A title-deed, so vast 
 
 Of right its power will last 
 When the stars perish and the sun grows dim { 
 
QUAE SUB HIS FIGURES VERE LA TIT AS. 67 
 
 Ah me ! how can you stand 
 
 With proud repellant air, 
 
 While He is waiting there 
 With yearning heart and loving outstretched 
 hand ? 
 
 Not always thus ! for He 
 
 Must vindicate His power 
 
 And will in one dread hour 
 With the sharp sword of slighted majesty. 
 
 He in this lowly guise 
 
 You scorn, will rise to smite 
 
 His mockers with the light 
 Of justice from a (lod's offended eyes ! 
 
THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. 
 
 TO L. C. M. 
 
 What ! here again ? I think I hear you cry, 
 
 Half wondering at the importunity 
 Which, after all the treasure that you gave, 
 
 Could find, perchance, another boon to crave. 
 
 Yes, it is I who come, with meekest eyes 
 To deprecate your anger or surprise ; 
 
 Not that the first, liege lady, e'er could find 
 A lasting place in one so deeply kind. 
 
 But, lest the latter should your spirit fill, 
 
 I straightway crave from your most gracious will 
 
 A gift, — most small to you, — how large to me ! 
 To you a dew-drop, in mine eyes a sea ! 
 
 To be forever mine, my very own. 
 
 Sealed, signed, delivered up to me alone ; 
 
 Give me, sweet lady, ere we seem to part 
 One little corner in your gracious heart. 
 
THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. 6q 
 
 Its rooms are many ; some are bright all day, 
 Softly through these the southern breezes play. 
 
 And sing to those you house of summer hours 
 When love triumphant reigns among the flowers. 
 
 Then there are others, where the shadow falls 
 Of prisoning bars along the moonlit walls, 
 
 Where chants unseen a mournful bird, whose plaint 
 Recalls the yearning prayer of some white saint. 
 
 I'here sleep the sweet dead hours so long gone by, 
 And they whose eyes behold no earthly sky : — 
 
 l^ut I, your beggar, am of low degree 
 
 And all the guest rooms are unfit for me ! 
 
 Oh, lead me past them all and up the stair 
 To that wee gable room you wot of, where 
 
 The morning-glories at the window peep, 
 
 Beneath whose eaves the swallows dart and sweep 
 
 ]]earing the message of their poet-queen, 
 Across the sea where she of late hath been. 
 
 Make this my secret nook, where eagerly 
 I'll wait the hand-bell of your majesty ; 
 
70 THE BEGGAR'S PETITIOX. 
 
 Too far to break upon your joys or tears 
 
 Yet near enough to serve you all the yera-s, — 
 
 Hand maid or jester, which you deign to ciiv)ose 
 I'll be, liege lady, — pray you not refuse ! 
 
QUEKNSTOWN HARBOR. 
 
 Our steamer lay tossing, the emigrants waiting 
 Whose green and brown hillsides rose near in our 
 view, 
 
 On a heart dull v.ith sorrow the gay talk was grating, 
 For, Erin, that spirit was aching for you ! 
 
 Oh, how cruel that throng as the exiles drew nearer. 
 From one to another the laugh, the jest, flew : — 
 
 Green land ! let them gibe at thy children, the dearer, 
 Each drop in their veins to the friend that is true. 
 
 On the hill there above us the grey walls were standing, 
 To tell of some shrine that the centuries knew, — 
 
 Perchance it was reared ere the Roman's first landing 
 Found the cave-sheltered Briton dyed rudely with 
 blue. 
 
 Oh, to picture those days ere the Saxon came over ! 
 When the learning of Ireland the far peoples drew, 
 When the saint, and the sage, and the brave knightly 
 lover 
 Filled the veins of the nation with life ever new ! 
 
72 Q UEENS TO WN HA RB OR. 
 
 Then dark fell the cloud of a grievous oppression, 
 And the throes of that agony Clod alone knew, — 
 
 For His own is this land of the matyr's confession 
 By the blood of the patriot watered like dew ! 
 
 On her cross and her banner they bade Erin trample, 
 That the fame of her treason to them might accrue^ 
 
 But the world stood abashed at her dauntless example ; 
 On the anvil of torture her 7nettle rang true. 
 
 Ah, well have they striven, who robbed her of glory. 
 Her faith and traditions to crush and subdue, 
 
 But the Irish heart cleaves to the land and its story, 
 And they \s\vo forget ^\^ but worthless and few. 
 
 'Tis vain to speak peace when the veins are hot burn- 
 ing!— 
 
 God only, dear Erin, thy soul can endue 
 With calmness and courage for loftily spurning 
 
 Revenge and the madness the country must rue. 
 
 Shake off the fell thought that was born of thy sorrow, — 
 Hark ! thy patriots call thee, the hour is in view ! 
 
 Shall the "Sun-burst" not lighten thy hill-tops to-morrow. 
 And the Father of justice award thee thy due ! 
 
A PALM SUNDAY DREAM— 1887. 
 
 It was o'er, that solemn giving from the steps of Jesus'" 
 
 throne, 
 Of the slender victor-branches : first to those, His very 
 
 own, 
 Chosen, set a])art, annointed, not alone to wield the 
 
 keys, 
 But to utter crucifixion of the life of self and ease. 
 
 Then to all the white-robed striplings ; some whose 
 
 boyish faces shone 
 With a solemn comprehension, as the quiet groups 
 
 passed on, 
 Of the real and very meaning of the waving sign they 
 
 bore 
 And the long and mortal struggle that must lie their 
 
 face before. 
 
24 'i PALM SUNDA V DREAM. 
 
 In a rising cloud of incense had the long procession 
 
 passed 
 Down our midst toward the portal, where the trumpet's 
 
 warlike blast 
 Rang the Royal Psalmist's greeting to his victor Lord 
 
 and Son 
 AMien the gates and doors eternal were thrown open 
 
 wide and won. 
 
 With a moment's awe of silence all the mighty crowd 
 
 was stilled, — 
 Then a few faint notes of triumph all the listening 
 
 spirit thrilled, 
 And I saw, as in a vision, rising dim and far away, 
 The first gathering of an army, through the ages cold 
 
 and grey. 
 
 Few and far between the footsteps after His who led 
 the van, — 
 
 Ah, the ringing of tJiat footfall told of more than mor- 
 tal man ! 
 
 But the sounds were quickly swelling, louder grew the 
 the tramp of feet. 
 
 And the broken notes of music grew to rounded 
 chords complete. 
 
A PALM SUXDAY DREAM. 75 
 
 How the ranks were filling, closing, as their march 
 
 came down the wind ! 
 On, through clash of mortal struggle, leaving centuries 
 
 behind, 
 How the angry cries were silenced of their fierce 
 
 relentless foes. 
 While the strains of coming triumph ever louder, 
 
 higher, rose 1 
 
 Then, — ah, who may tell the vision I — into sight the 
 
 Leader came, 
 With His blood-red banner streaming and His robe of 
 
 living flame ; 
 All His soldier-wounds were glowing brighter than the 
 
 sun above, 
 And His steadfast face was lambent with unutterable 
 
 love. 
 
 As He passed, He gazed upon us, beckoned slightly 
 
 with His hand, 
 But as, awestruck, we w^re rising to complete that 
 
 mighty band, 
 All the vision paled and faded, then bewildered I 
 
 looked round. 
 Ah, my God 1 within that army let my place be surely 
 
 found. 
 
UNDER THE CEDAR, OR LOVE'S LURES. 
 
 O butterfly ! who only yester-eve 
 
 Thy shrouding prison bands didst joyful cleave, 
 
 Those long dull creeping hours to spurn and leave,. 
 
 I pray ! 
 Beside me for a space thy wings display 
 To draw Love's eye, if he should pass this way. 
 
 Wild bee I thy search is vain for honeyed cheer, 
 
 Beneath my cedar ; yet the myrtle near 
 
 With white flame glows ; tarry thou therefore here, 
 
 I pray ! 
 And hum a drowsy tune that thou mays't stay 
 Love's feet, if he should pass along this way. 
 
 O whispering wind ! beloved since long ago, 
 
 Grant my desire, nor sigh, its end I know. 
 
 One last caress, then leave me, friend, and blow, 
 
 I pray ! 
 So that thy subtly sweet suggestion sway 
 Love's soul to seek this garden out today. 
 
UADRR THE CEDAR, OR LOVBS LURES. 77 
 
 Now bend and hide me well, O cedar-tree ! 
 Thou rose outside ! the hot sun glows on thee, 
 Throw wide thy crimson doors for him to see, 
 
 I pray ! 
 That, as he stoop to kiss thee on his way, 
 Unseen I touch Love's garment hem today !