Part 29

VERSE: HOME AT LAST

Child, do not fear; We shall reach our home to-night, For the sky is clear, And the waters bright; And the breezes have scarcely strength To unfold that little cloud, That like a shroud Spreads out its fleecy length Then have no fear, As we cleave our silver way Through the waters clear.

Fear not, my child! Though the waves are white and high, And the storm blows wild Through the gloomy sky; On the edge of the western sea, See that line of golden light, Is the haven bright Where home is awaiting thee; Where, this peril past, We shall rest from our stormy voyage In peace at last.

Be not afraid; But give me thy hand, and see How the waves have made A cradle for thee. Night is come, dear, and we shall rest; So turn from the angry skies, And close thine eyes, And lay thy head on my breast: Child, do not weep; In the calm, cold, purple depths There we shall sleep.

VERSE: UNEXPRESSED

Dwells within the soul of every Artist More than all his effort can express; And he knows the best remains unuttered; Sighing at what we call his success.

Vainly he may strive; he dare not tell us All the sacred mysteries of the skies: Vainly he may strive; the deepest beauty Cannot be unveiled to mortal eyes.

And the more devoutly that he listens, And the holier message that is sent, Still the more his soul must struggle vainly, Bowed beneath a noble discontent.

No great Thinker ever lived and taught you All the wonder that his soul received; No true Painter ever set on canvas All the glorious vision he conceived.

No Musician ever held your spirit Charmed and bound in his melodious chains, But be sure he heard, and strove to render, Feeble echoes of celestial strains.

No real Poet ever wove in numbers All his dream; but the diviner part, Hidden from all the world, spake to him only In the voiceless silence of his heart.

So with Love: for Love and Art united Are twin mysteries; different, yet the same: Poor indeed would be the love of any Who could find its full and perfect name.

Love may strive, but vain is the endeavour All its boundless riches to enfold; Still its tenderest, truest secret lingers Ever in its deepest depths untold.

Things of Time have voices: speak and perish. Art and Love speak--but their words must be Like sighings of illimitable forests, And waves of an unfathomable sea.

VERSE: BECAUSE

It is not because your heart is mine--mine only-- Mine alone; It is not because you chose me, weak and lonely, For your own; Not because the earth is fairer, and the skies Spread above you Are more radiant for the shining of your eyes-- That I love you!

It is not because the world's perplexed meaning Grows more clear; And the Parapets of Heaven, with angels leaning, Seem more near; And Nature sings of praise with all her voices Since yours spoke, Since within my silent heart, that now rejoices, Love awoke!

Nay, not even because your hand holds heart and life; At your will Soothing, hushing all its discord, making strife Calm and still; Teaching Trust to fold her wings, nor ever roam From her nest; Teaching Love that her securest, safest home Must be Rest.

But because this human Love, though true and sweet-- Yours and mine-- Has been sent by Love more tender, more complete, More divine; That it leads our hearts to rest at last in Heaven, Far above you; Do I take you as a gift that God has given-- --And I love you!

VERSE: REST AT EVENING

When the weariness of Life is ended, And the task of our long day is done, And the props, on which our hearts depended, All have failed or broken, one by one; Evening and our Sorrow's shadow blended Telling us that peace is now begun.

How far back will seem the sun's first dawning, And those early mists so cold and grey! Half forgotten even the toil of morning, And the heat and burthen of the day: Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning, All alike withered and cast away.

Vain will seem the impatient heart, which waited Toils that gathered but too quickly round; And the childish joy, so soon elated At the path we thought none else had found; And the foolish ardour, soon abated By the storm which cast us to the ground.

Vain those pauses on the road, each seeming As our final home and resting-place; And the leaving them, while tears were streaming Of eternal sorrow down our face; And the hands we held, fond folly dreaming That no future could their touch efface.

All will then be faded:- night will borrow Stars of light to crown our perfect rest; And the dim vague memory of faint sorrow Just remain to show us all was best, Then melt into a divine to-morrow:- Oh, how poor a day to be so blest!

VERSE: A RETROSPECT

From this fair point of present bliss, Where we together stand, Let me look back once more, and trace That long and desert land, Wherein till now was cast my lot, and I could live, and thou wert not.

Strange that my heart could beat, and know Alternate joy and pain, That suns could roll from east to west, And clouds could pass in rain, And the slow hours without thee fleet, nor stay their noiseless silver feet.