Part 15

Nor with thy share of work be vexed; Though incomplete, and even perplex, It fits exactly to the next.

What seems so dark to thy dim sight May be a shadow, seen aright, Making some brightness doubly bright.

The flash that struck thy tree,--no more To shelter thee,--lets Heaven's blue floor Shine where it never shone before.

Thy life that has been dropped aside Into Time's stream, may stir the tide, In rippled circles spreading wide.

The cry wrung from thy spirit's pain May echo on some far-off plain, And guide a wanderer home again.

Fail--yet rejoice; because no less The failure that makes thy distress May teach another full success.

It may be that in some great need Thy life's poor fragments are decreed To help build up a lofty deed.

Thy heart should throb in vast content, Thus knowing that it was but meant As chord in one great instrument;

That even the discord in thy soul May make completer music roll From out the great harmonious whole.

It may be, that when all is light, Deep set within that deep delight Will be to know why all was right;

To hear life's perfect music rise, And while it floods the happy skies, Thy feeble voice to recognise.

Then strive more gladly to fulfil Thy little part. This darkness still Is light to every loving will.

And trust,--as if already plain, How just thy share of loss and pain Is for another fuller gain.

I dare not limit time or place Touched by thy life: nor dare I trace Its far vibrations into space.

One only knows. Yet if the fret Of thy weak heart, in weak regret Needs a more tender comfort yet:

Then thou mayst take thy loneliest fears, The bitterest drops of all thy tears, The dreariest hours of all thy years;

And through thy anguish there outspread, May ask that God's great love would shed Blessings on one beloved head.

And thus thy soul shall learn to draw Sweetness from out that loving law That sees no failure and no flaw,

Where all is good. And life is good, Were the one lesson understood Of its most sacred brotherhood.

VERSE: A CHANGELING

A little changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day: I had no heart or courage To drive the child away.

So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest.

I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep; I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep.

I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too:- It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue.

I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old.

I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest.

In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the Virgin Mother Holding her Child divine.

I knelt down there in silence, And on the Altar-stone I laid my wailing burden, And came away--alone.