Part 16

And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel, With wines both wide and strong.

She watches me from Heaven, With loving, tender care, And one day she has promised That I shall find her there.

VERSE: DISCOURAGED

Where the little babbling streamlet First springs forth to light, Trickling through soft velvet mosses, Almost hid from sight; Vowed I with delight,-- "River, I will follow thee, Through thy wanderings to the Sea!"

Gleaming 'mid the purple heather, Downward then it sped, Glancing through the mountain gorges, Like a silver thread, As it quicker fled, Louder music in its flow, Dashing to the Vale below.

Then its voice grew lower, gentler, And its pace less fleet, Just as though it loved to linger Round the rushes' feet, As they stooped to meet Their clear images below, Broken by the ripples' flow.

Purple Willow-herb bent over To her shadow fair; Meadow-sweet, in feathery clusters, Perfumed all the air; Silver-weed was there, And in one calm, grassy spot, Starry, blue Forget-me-not.

Tangled weeds, below the waters, Still seemed drawn away; Yet the current, floating onward, Was less strong than they;-- Sunbeams watched their play, With a flickering light and shade, Through the screen the Alders made.

Broader grew the flowing River; To its grassy brink Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays, Cattle trooped to drink: The blue sky, I think, Was no bluer than that stream, Slipping onward, like a dream.

Quicker, deeper then it hurried, Rushing fierce and free; But I said, "It should grow calmer Ere it meets the Sea, The wide purple Sea, Which I weary for in vain, Wasting all my toil and pain."

But it rushed still quicker, fiercer, In its rocky bed, Hard and stony was the pathway To my tired tread; "I despair," I said, "Of that wide and glorious Sea That was promised unto me."

So I turned aside, and wandered Through green meadows near, Far away, among the daisies, Far away, for fear Lest I still should hear The loud murmur of its song, As the River flowed along.

Now I hear it not:- I loiter Gaily as before; Yet I sometimes think,--and thinking Makes my heart so sore,-- Just a few steps more, And there might have shone for me, Blue and infinite, the Sea.

VERSE: IF THOU COULDST KNOW

I think if thou couldst know, Oh soul that will complain, What lies concealed below Our burden and our pain; How just our anguish brings Nearer those longed-for things We seek for now in vain,-- I think thou wouldst rejoice, and not complain.

I think if thou couldst see, With thy dim mortal sight, How meanings, dark to thee, Are shadows hiding light; Truth's efforts crossed and vexed, Life's purpose all perplexed,-- If thou couldst see them right, I think that they would seem all clear, and wise, and bright.

And yet thou canst not know, And yet thou canst not see; Wisdom and sight are slow In poor humanity. If thou couldst trust, poor soul, In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest: Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best.

VERSE: THE WARRIOR TO HIS DEAD BRIDE

If in the fight my arm was strong, And forced my foes to yield, If conquering and unhurt I came Back from the battle-field-- It is because thy prayers have been My safeguard and my shield.

My comrades smile to see my arm Spare or protect a foe, They think thy gentle pleading voice Was silenced long ago; But pity and compassion, love, Were taught me first by woe.

Thy heart, my own, still beats in Heaven With the same love divine That made thee stoop to such a soul, So hard, so stern, as mine-- My eyes have learnt to weep, beloved, Since last they looked on thine.

I hear thee murmur words of peace Through the dim midnight air, And a calm falls from the angel stars And soothes my great despair-- The Heavens themselves look brighter, love, Since thy sweet soul is there.

And if my heart is once more calm, My step is once more free, It is because each hour I feel Thou prayest still for me; Because no fate or change can come Between my soul and thee.

It is because my heart is stilled. Not broken by despair, Because I see the grave is bright, And death itself is fair-- I dread no more the wrath of Heaven-- I have an angel there!

VERSE: A LETTER

Dear, I tried to write you such a letter As would tell you all my heart to-day. Written Love is poor; one word were better; Easier, too, a thousand times, to say.

I can tell you all: fears, doubts unheeding, While I can be near you, hold your hand, Looking right into your eyes, and reading Reassurance that you understand.

Yet I wrote it through, then lingered, thinking Of its reaching you,--what hour, what day; Till I felt my heart and courage sinking With a strange, new, wondering dismay.