MEMORY AND HOPE.

I.

BACK-LOOKING Memory

And prophet Hope both sprang from out the
ground:

One, where the flashing of Cherubic sword
Fell sad, in Eden sward;

And one, from Eden earth, within the sound
Of the four rivers lapsing pleasantly,
What time the promise after curse was said—
"Thy seed shall bruise his head."

II.

Poor Memory's brain is wild,

As moonstruck by that flaming atmosphere
When she was born. Her deep eyes shine and shone
With light that conquereth sun

And stars to wanner paleness year by year:
With odorous gums, she mixeth things defiled;
She trampleth down earth's grasses green and sweet,
With her far-wandering feet.

III.

She plucketh many flowers,

Their beauty on her bosom's coldness killing;
She teacheth every melancholy sound

To winds and waters round;

She droppeth tears with seed, where man is tilling
The rugged soil in his exhausted hours;
She smileth-ah me! in her smile doth go
A mood of deeper woe!

IV.

Hope tripped on out of sight
Crowned with an Eden wreath she saw not fade,
And went a-nodding through the wilderness,
With brow that shone no less

Than sea-bird wings, by storm more frequent made,-
Searching the treeless rock for fruits of light;
Her fair quick feet being armed from stones and cold,
By slippers all of gold.

V.

Memory did Hope much wrong,

And, while she dreamed, her slippers stole away;
But still she wended on with mirth unheeding,
The while her feet were bleeding;

Till Memory met her on a certain day,
And with most evil eyes did search her long
And cruelly, whereat she sank to ground

In a stark deadly swound.

VI.

And so my Hope were slain,

IIad it not been that THOU wert standing near, Oh Thou, who saidest 'live' to creatures lying In their own blood, and dying!

For Thou her forehead to thine heart didst rear, And make its silent pulses sing again,— Pouring a new light o'er her darkened eyne, With tender tears from Thine!

VII.

Therefore my Hope arose

From out her swound, and gazed upon Thy face;
And, meeting there that soft subduing look
Which Peter's spirit shook,

Sank downward in a rapture to embrace
Thy pierced hands and feet with kisses close,
And prayed Thee to assist her evermore
To "reach the things before."

VIII.

Then gavest Thou the smile

Whence angel-wings thrill quick like summer lightning,

Vouchsafing rest beside Thee, where she never From Love and Faith may sever; Whereat the Eden crown she saw not whitening, A time ago, though whitening all the while, Reddened with life, to hear the Voice which talked To Adam as he walked.

HUMAN LIFE'S MISERY

I.

E sow the glebe, we reap the corn,

WE

We build the house where we may rest;

And then, at moments, suddenly,

We look up to the great wide sky,
Enquiring wherefore we were born. . .

For earnest, or for jest?

II.

The senses folding thick and dark
About the stifled soul within,
We guess diviner things beyond,

And yearn to them with yearning fond;
We strike out blindly to a mark

Believed in, but not seen.

III.

We vibrate to the pant and thrill
Wherewith Eternity has curled
In serpent-twine about God's seat!
While, freshening upward to His feet,
In gradual growth His full-leaved will
Expands from world to world.

IV.

And, in the tumult and excess

Of act and passion under sun,
We sometimes hear-oh, soft and far,
As silver star did touch with star,
The kiss of Peace and Righteousness
Through all things that are done,

God keeps his holy mysteries
Just on the outside of man's dream!
In diapason slow, we think

To hear their pinions rise and sink,
While they float pure beneath His eyes,
Like swans adown a stream.

VI.

Abstractions, are they, from the forms
Of His great beauty ?-exaltations
From His great glory?-strong previsions
Of what we shall be ?-intuitions

Of what we are-in calms and storms,
Beyond our peace and passions?

VII.

Things nameless! which, in passing so,
Do stroke us with a subtle grace.
We say, "Who passes?"-they are dumb:
We cannot see them go or come:
Their touches fall soft-cold-as snow
Upon a blind man's face.