Part 14

Land where the desolate weep In a sorrow no voice may console! Our tears are but streams, making deep The ocean of love in our soul.

Land where the victor's flag waves, Where only the dead are free! Each link of the chain that enslaves But binds us to them and to thee.

Land where the Sign of the Cross Its shadow hath everywhere shed! We measure our love by thy loss, Thy loss by the graves of our dead!

In Memoriam

Go! heart of mine! the way is long -- The night is dark -- the place is far; Go! kneel and pray, or chant a song, Beside two graves where Mary's star Shines o'er two children's hearts at rest, With Mary's medals on their breast.

Go! heart! those children loved you so, Their little lips prayed oft for you! But ah! those necks are lying low Round which you twined the badge of blue. Go to their graves, this Virgin's feast, With poet's song and prayer of priest.

Go! like a pilgrim to a shrine, For that is holy ground where sleep Children of Mary and of thine; Go! kneel, and pray and sing and weep; Last summer how their faces smiled When each was blessed as Mary's child.

* * * * *

My heart is gone! I cannot sing! Beside those children's grave, song dies; Hush! Poet! -- Priest! Prayer hath a wing To pass the stars and reach the skies; Sweet children! from the land of light Look down and bless my heart to-night.

Reverie ["We laugh when our souls are the saddest,"]

We laugh when our souls are the saddest, We shroud all our griefs in a smile; Our voices may warble their gladdest, And our souls mourn in anguish the while.

And our eyes wear a summer's bright glory, When winter is wailing beneath; And we tell not the world the sad story Of the thorn hidden back of the wreath.

Ah! fast flow the moments of laughter, And bright as the brook to the sea But ah! the dark hours that come after Of moaning for you and for me.

Yea, swift as the sunshine, and fleeting As birds, fly the moments of glee! And we smile, and mayhap grief is sleeting Its ice upon you and on me.

And the clouds of the tempest are shifting O'er the heart, tho' the face may be bright; And the snows of woe's winter are drifting Our souls; and each day hides a night.

For ah! when our souls are enjoying The mirth which our faces reveal, There is something -- a something -- alloying The sweetness of joy that we feel.

Life's loveliest sky hides the thunder Whose bolt in a moment may fall; And our path may be flowery, but under The flowers there are thorns for us all.

Ah! 'tis hard when our beautiful dreamings That flash down the valley of night, Wave their wing when the gloom hides their gleaming, And leave us, like eagles in flight;

And fly far away unreturning, And leave us in terror and tears, While vain is the spirit's wild yearning That they may come back in the years.

Come back! did I say it? but never Do eagles come back to the cage: They have gone -- they have gone -- and forever -- Does youth come back ever to age?

No! a joy that has left us in sorrow Smiles never again on our way, But we meet in the farthest to-morrow The face of the grief of to-day.

The brightness whose tremulous glimmer Has faded we cannot recall; And the light that grows dimmer and dimmer -- When gone -- 'tis forever and all.

Not a ray of it anywhere lingers, Not a gleam of it gilds the vast gloom; Youth's roses perfume not the fingers Of age groping nigh to the tomb.

For "the memory of joy is a sadness" -- The dim twilight after the day; And the grave where we bury a gladness Sends a grief like a ghost, on our way.

No day shall return that has faded, The dead come not back from the tomb; The vale of each life must be shaded, That we may see best from the gloom.

The height of the homes of our glory, All radiant with splendors of light; That we may read clearly life's story -- "The dark is the dawn of the bright."

I Often Wonder Why 'Tis So

Some find work where some find rest, And so the weary world goes on: I sometimes wonder which is best; The answer comes when life is gone.