Part 15

He looked--was that pale woman, So grave, so worn, so sad, The child, once young and smiling, The bride, once fair and glad? What grief had dimmed that glory, And brought that dark eclipse Upon her blue eyes' radiance, And paled those trembling lips?

What memory of past sorrow, What stab of present pain, Brought that deep look of anguish, That watched the dismal rain, That watched (with the absent spirit That looks, yet does not see) The dead and leafless branches Upon the Judas Tree.

The slow dark months crept onward Upon their icy way, 'Till April broke in showers And Spring smiled forth in May; Upon the apple-blossoms The sun shone bright again, When slowly up the highway Came a long funeral train.

The bells toiled slowly, sadly, For a noble spirit fled; Slowly, in pomp and honour, They bore the quiet dead. Upon a black-plumed charger One rode, who held a shield, Where stars and azure fleurs-de-lis Shone on a silver field.

'Mid all that homage given To a fluttering heart at rest, Perhaps an honest sorrow Dwelt only in one breast. One by the inn-door standing Watched with fast-dropping tears The long procession passing, And thought of bygone years,

The boyish, silent homage To child and bride unknown, The pitying tender sorrow Kept in his heart alone, Now laid upon the coffin With a purple flower, might be Told to the cold dead sleeper; The rest could only see A fragrant purple blossom, Plucked from a Judas Tree.

VERSE: VOICES OF THE PAST

You wonder that my tears should flow In listening to that simple strain; That those unskilful sounds should fill My soul with joy and pain-- How can you tell what thoughts it stirs Within my heart again?

You wonder why that common phrase, So all unmeaning to your ear, Should stay me in my merriest mood, And thrill my soul to hear-- How can you tell what ancient charm Has made me hold it dear?

You marvel that I turn away From all those flowers so fair and bright, And gaze at this poor herb, till tears Arise and dim my sight-- You cannot tell how every leaf Breathes of a past delight.

You smile to see me turn and speak With one whose converse you despise; You do not see the dreams of old That with his voice arise-- How can you tell what links have made Him sacred in my eyes?

Oh, these are Voices of the Past, Links of a broken chain, Wings that can bear me back to Times Which cannot come again-- Yet God forbid that I should lose The echoes that remain!

VERSE: THE DARK SIDE

Thou hast done well, perhaps, To lift the bright disguise, And lay the bitter truth Before our shrinking eyes; When evil crawls below What seems so pure and fair, Thine eyes are keen and true To find the serpent there: And yet--I turn away; Thy task is not divine-- The evil angels look On earth with eyes like thine.

Thou hast done well, perhaps, To show how closely wound Dark threads of sin and self With our best deeds are found. How great and noble hearts, Striving for lofty aims, Have still some earthly cord A meaner spirit claims; And yet--although thy task Is well and fairly done, Methinks for such as thou There is a holier one.

Shadows there are, who dwell Among us, yet apart, Deaf to the claim of God, Or kindly human heart; Voices of earth and heaven Call, but they turn away, And Love, through such black night, Can see no hope of day; And yet--our eyes are dim, And thine are keener far-- Then gaze till thou canst see The glimmer of some star.

The black stream flows along, Whose waters we despise-- Show us reflected there Some fragment of the skies; 'Neath tangled thorns and briars, (The task is fit for thee,) Seek for the hidden flowers, We are too blind to see; Then will I thy great gift A crown and blessing call; Angels look thus on men, And God sees good in all!

VERSE: A FIRST SORROW

Arise! this day shall shine, For evermore, To thee a star divine, On Time's dark shore.

Till now thy soul has been All glad and gay: Bid it awake, and look At grief to-day!

No shade has come between Thee and the sun; Like some long childish dream Thy life has run:

But now the stream has reached A dark, deep sea, And Sorrow, dim and crowned, Is waiting thee.

Each of God's soldiers bears A sword divine: Stretch out thy trembling hands To-day for thine!

To each anointed Priest God's summons came: Oh, Soul, he speaks to-day And calls thy name.

Then, with slow reverent step, And beating heart, From out thy joyous days, Thou must depart.

And, leaving all behind, Come forth, alone, To join the chosen band Around the throne.

Raise up thine eyes--be strong, Nor cast away The crown, that God has given Thy soul to-day!

VERSE: MURMURS