Part 22

XVII.

Now Christmas Eve returning, Saw Alice stand beside The altar, greeting Dora, Again a smiling bride; And now the gloomy evening Sees Alice pale and worn, Leaving the house for ever, To wander out forlorn.

XVIII.

Forlorn--nay, not so. Anguish Shall do its work at length; Her soul, passed through the fire, Shall gain still purer strength. Somewhere there waits for Alice An earnest noble part; And, meanwhile God is with her,-- God, and her own true heart!

VERSE: THE WIND

The wind went forth o'er land and sea Loud and free; Foaming waves leapt up to meet it, Stately pines bowed down to greet it; While the wailing sea And the forest's murmured sigh Joined the cry Of the wind that swept o'er land and sea.

The wind that blew upon the sea Fierce and free, Cast the bark upon the shore, Whence it sailed the night before Full of hope and glee; And the cry of pain and death Was but a breath, Through the wind that roared upon the sea.

The wind was whispering on the lea Tenderly; But the white rose felt it pass, And the fragile stalks of grass Shook with fear to see All her trembling petals shed, As it fled, So gently by,--the wind upon the lea.

Blow, thou wind, upon the sea Fierce and free, And a gentler message send, Where frail flowers and grasses bend, On the sunny lea; For thy bidding still is one, Be it done In tenderness or wrath, on land or sea!

VERSE: EXPECTATION

The King's three daughters stood on the terrace, The hanging terrace, so broad and green, Which keeps the sea from the marble Palace, There was Princess May, and Princess Alice, And the youngest Princess, Gwendoline.

Sighed Princess May, "Will it last much longer, Time throbs so slow and my Heart so quick; And oh, how long is the day in dying; Weary am I of waiting and sighing, For Hope deferred makes the spirit sick."

But Princess Gwendoline smiled and kissed her:- "Am I not sadder than you, my Sister? Expecting joy is a happy pain. The Future's fathomless mine of treasures, All countless hordes of possible pleasures, Might bring their store to my feet in vain."

Sighed Princess Alice as night grew nearer:- "So soon, so soon, is the daylight fled! And oh, how fast comes the dark to-morrow, Who hides, perhaps in her veil of sorrow, The terrible hour I wait and dread!"

But Princess Gwendoline kissed her, sighing,-- "It is only Life that can fear dying; Possible loss means possible gain. Those who still dread, are not quite forsaken; But not to fear, because all is taken, Is the loneliest depth of human pain."

VERSE: AN IDEAL

While the grey mists of early dawn Were lingering round the hill, And the dew was still upon the flowers, And the earth lay calm and still, A winged Spirit came to me Noble, and radiant, and free.

Folding his blue and shining wings, He laid his hand on mine. I know not if I felt, or heard The mystic word divine, Which woke the trembling air to sighs, And shone from out his starry eyes.

The word he spoke, within my heart Stirred life unknown before, And cast a spell upon my soul To chain it evermore; Making the cold dull earth look bright, And skies flame out in sapphire light.

When noon ruled from the heavens, and man Through busy day toiled on, My Spirit drooped his shining wings; His radiant smile was gone; His voice had ceased, his grace had flown, His hand grew cold within my own.

Bitter, oh bitter tears, I wept, Yet still I held his hand, Hoping with vague unreasoning hope: I would not understand That this pale Spirit never more Could be what he had been before.

Could it be so? My heart stood still. Yet he was by my side. I strove; but my despair was vain; Vain, too, was love and pride. Could he have changed to me so soon? My day was only at its noon.

Now stars are rising one by one, Through the dim evening air; Near me a household Spirit waits, With tender loving care; He speaks and smiles, but never sings, Long since he lost his shining wings.

With thankful, true content, I know This is the better way; Is not a faithful spirit mine-- Mine still--at close of day? . . . Yet will my foolish heart repine For that bright morning dream of mine.

VERSE: OUR DEAD

Nothing is our own: we hold our pleasures Just a little while, ere they are fled: One by one life robs us of our treasures; Nothing is our own except our Dead.

They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping Safe for ever, all they took away. Cruel life can never stir that sleeping, Cruel time can never seize that prey.

Justice pales; truth fades; stars fall from Heaven; Human are the great whom we revere: No true crown of honour can be given, Till we place it on a funeral bier.