Part 5

Now that my restless legion Of hopes and fears is fled, Reading is joy and comfort . . . . . . This very day I read, Oh, such a strange returning Of one whom all thought dead!

Not that I dream or fancy, You know all that is past; Earth has no hope to give me, And yet:- Time flies so fast That all but the impossible Might be brought back at last.

VERSE: IN THE WOOD

In the wood where shadows are deepest From the branches overhead, Where the wild wood-strawberries cluster And the softest moss is spread, I met to-day with a fairy, And I followed her where she led.

Some magical words she uttered, I alone could understand, For the sky grew bluer and brighter; While there rose on either hand The cloudy walls of a palace That was built in Fairy-land.

And I stood in a strange enchantment; I had known it all before: In my heart of hearts was the magic Of days that will come no more, The manic of joy departed, That Time can never restore.

That never, ah, never, never, Never again can be:- Shall I tell you what powerful fairy Built up this palace for me? It was only a little white Violet I found at the root of a tree.

VERSE: TWO WORLDS

God's world is bathed in beauty, God's world is steeped in light; It is the self-same glory That makes the day so bright, Which thrills the earth with music, Or hangs the stars in night.

Hid in earth's mines of silver, Floating on clouds above,-- Ringing in Autumn's tempest, Murmured by every dove; One thought fills God's creation-- His own great name of Love!

In God's world Strength is lovely, And so is Beauty strong, And Light--God's glorious shadow-- To both great gifts belong; And they all melt into sweetness, And fill the earth with Song.

Above God's world bends Heaven, With day's kiss pure and bright, Or folds her still more fondly In the tender shade of night; And she casts back Heaven's sweetness, In fragrant love and light.

God's world has one great echo; Whether calm blue mists are curled, Or lingering dew-drops quiver, Or red storms are unfurled; The same deep love is throbbing Through the great heart of God's world.

Man's world is black and blighted, Steeped through with self and sin; And should his feeble purpose Some feeble good begin, The work is marred and tainted By Leprosy within.

Man's world is bleak and bitter; Wherever he has trod He spoils the tender beauty That blossoms on the sod, And blasts the loving Heaven Of the great, good world of God.

There Strength on coward weakness In cruel might will roll; Beauty and Joy are cankers That eat away the soul; And Love--Oh God, avenge it-- The plague-spot of the whole.

Man's world is Pain and Terror; He found it pure and fair, And wove in nets of sorrow The golden summer air. Black, hideous, cold, and dreary, Man's curse, not God's, is there.

And yet God's world is speaking: Man will not hear it call; But listens where the echoes Of his own discords fall, Then clamours back to Heaven That God has done it all.

Oh God, man's heart is darkened, He will not understand! Show him Thy cloud and fire; And, with Thine own right hand Then lead him through his desert, Back to Thy Holy Land!

VERSE: A NEW MOTHER

I was with my lady when she died: I it was who guided her weak hand For a blessing on each little head, Laid her baby by her on the bed, Heard the words they could not understand.

And I drew them round my knee that night, Hushed their childish glee, and made them say They would keep her words with loving tears, They would not forget her dying fears Lest the thought of her should fade away.

I, who guessed what her last dread had been, Made a promise to that still, cold face, That her children's hearts, at any cost, Should be with the mother they had lost, When a stranger came to take her place.

And I knew so much! for I had lived With my lady since her childhood: known What her young and happy days had been, And the grief no other eyes had seen I had watched and sorrowed for alone.

Ah! she once had such a happy smile! I had known how sorely she was tried: Six short years before, her eyes were bright As her little blue-eyed May's that night, When she stood by her dead mother's side.

No--I will not say he was unkind; But she had been used to love and praise. He was somewhat grave--perhaps, in truth, Could not weave her joyous, smiling youth, Into all his stern and serious ways.

She, who should have reigned a blooming flower, First in pride and honour, as in grace,-- She, whose will had once ruled all around, Queen and darling of us all--she found Change indeed in that cold, stately place.

Yet she would not blame him, even to me, Though she often sat and wept alone; But she could not hide it near her death, When she said with her last struggling breath, "Let my babies still remain my own!"