Part 3

VERSE: OPTIMUS

There is a deep and subtle snare Whose sure temptation hardly fails, Which, just because it looks so fair, Only a noble heart assails.

So all the more we need be strong Against this false and seeming Right; Which none the less is deadly wrong, Because it glitters clothed in light.

When duties unfulfilled remain, Or noble works are left unplanned, Or when great deeds cry out in vain On coward heart and trembling hand,--

Then will a seeming Angel speak:-- "The hours are fleeting--great the need-- If thou art strong and others weak, Thine be the effort and the deed.

"Deaf are their ears who ought to hear; Idle their hands, and dull their soul; While sloth, or ignorance, or fear, Fetters them with a blind control.

"Sort thou the tangled web aright; Take thou the toil--take thou the pain: For fear the hour begin its flight, While Right and Duty plead in vain."

And now it is I bid thee pause, Nor let this Tempter bend thy will: There are diviner, truer laws That teach a nobler lesson still.

Learn that each duty makes its claim Upon one soul: not each on all. How, if God speaks thy Brother's name, Dare thou make answer to the call?

The greater peril in the strife, The less this evil should be done; For as in battle, so in life, Danger and honour still are one.

Arouse him then:- this is thy part: Show him the claim; point out the need; And nerve his arm, and cheer his heart; Then stand aside, and say "God speed!"

Smooth thou his path ere it is trod; Burnish the arms that he must wield; And pray, with all thy strength, that God May crown him Victor of the field.

And then, I think, thy soul shall feel A nobler thrill of true content, Than if presumptuous, eager zeal Had seized a crown for others meant.

And even that very deed shall shine In mystic sense, divine and true, More wholly and more purely thine-- Because it is another's too.

VERSE: A LOST CHORD

Seated one day at the Organ, I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys.

I do not know what I was playing, Or what I was dreaming then; But I struck one chord of music, Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight Like the close of an Angel's Psalm, And it lay on my fevered spirit With a touch of infinite calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow, Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life.

It linked all perplexed meanings Into one perfect peace, And trembled away into silence As if it were loth to cease.

I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one lost chord divine, Which came from the soul of the Organ, And entered into mine.

It may be that Death's bright angel Will speak in that chord again,-- It may be that only in Heaven I shall hear that grand Amen.

VERSE: TOO LATE

Hush! speak low; tread softly; Draw the sheet aside;-- Yes, she does look peaceful; With that smile she died.

Yet stern want and sorrow Even now you trace On the wan, worn features Of the still white face.

Restless, helpless, hopeless, Was her bitter part;-- Now--how still the Violets Lie upon her Heart!

She who toiled and laboured For her daily bread; See the velvet hangings Of this stately bed.

Yes, they did forgive her; Brought her home at last; Strove to cover over Their relentless past.