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 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013614049 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise 
 
By the Same Author. 
 
 CUPID'S GARDEN. 
 
 A Volume of Stories. 3s. 6d. 
 
 " Most delightful stories of love and 
 marriage. The conversation is amazingly 
 clever." — Methodist Times. 
 
 \* Also People's Edition, 6d. 
 
 CASSELL Sr COMPANY, LimUcd, Londm; 
 Paris, New York & Melbourtu. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise 
 
 With which are incorporated 
 
 Verses, Grave and Gay 
 
 BY 
 
 ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER 
 
 (MRS. A. L. FELKIN) 
 
 MCMV 
 
 CASSELL AND COMPANY, Limited 
 
 LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FAGB 
 
 The Wisdom of Folly 13 
 
 A Transmigkation of Souls 15 
 
 An Illusion 17 
 
 Her Parting Shaft ig 
 
 "A Blank, my Lord" 20 
 
 Without Understanding 22 
 
 Too Sure 24 
 
 The Planet Mars 26 
 
 A Forsaken Idol 28 
 
 A Passing Glimpse 30 
 
 Three Stages 32 
 
 A Cool Customer 33 
 
 A Subject Race 35 
 
 The Sleeping Beauty. Part I. 37 
 
 The Sleeping Beauty. Part II 40 
 
 A Leap- Year Idyll 42 
 
 A Quartette of Queens 45 
 
 An Iconoclast 47 
 
vi Contents. 
 
 rACB 
 
 The Unattainable 49 
 
 When Swallows Build S* 
 
 A False God S3 
 
 My Ideal 55 
 
 In the Court of the Gentiles . . . . 56 
 
 The Praise of Men 58 
 
 Love's Slayer 60 
 
 Not Forsaken 62 
 
 The Man in the Iron Mask 64 
 
 "For Better, for Worse" 66 
 
 Within my Heart 69 
 
 The Lost Love 72 
 
 Disappointed 75 
 
 The Women of Weinsberg (From the German) ... 78 
 
 Golden Daffodils 81 
 
 Lent Lilies ... 84 
 
 When? 86 
 
 Thou and I 87 
 
 An Autumn Song 88 
 
 Instead 90 
 
 Love's Portion 92 
 
 The Longest Day 96 
 
 Pot-Pourri 98 
 
Contents. vii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Which? loo 
 
 Now AS Then 102 
 
 A Song of Loves 104 
 
 In Coldest England 106 
 
 Among the Roses 108 
 
 An Old Love no 
 
 An Epic of Staffordshire 112 
 
 The Children of Men 120 
 
 "Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh" .... 125 
 
 The Shepherd's Search 128 
 
 The Hermit 132 
 
 Loss and Gain 13S 
 
 Sunshine and Shadow 137 
 
 Wings 138 
 
 Happiness -139 
 
 Purple and Gold 140 
 
 Ivy 142 
 
 A Weaving Song i44 
 
 Granny's Good-night 14S 
 
 A Wish .146 
 
 Pictures and Painters 147 
 
 Harvest Hymn 148 
 
 Recessional Hymn 151 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Without iS7 
 
 Ways of Pleasantness iS^ 
 
 A Closed Door iS9 
 
 Incognita i6o 
 
 My Complement i6i 
 
 An Awakening . . 162 
 
 The Password 163 
 
 A Name .... 164 
 
 On a Picture of the Grand Canal, Venice . . . 165 
 
 "When the World was YOung" 166 
 
 Anticipations ... 167 
 
 Dreams 168 
 
 On the Shore 169 
 
 The Commonplace 170 
 
 Two Friends . . 171 
 
 Sunshine 172 
 
 Night 173 
 
 An Old Legend 174 
 
 To My Friend 175 
 
Contents. ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To My Lady 176 
 
 Loyalty 177 
 
 "As IN A Glass". . 178 
 
 A Spring Breeze 179 
 
 Nature's Apathy 180 
 
 Tired 181 
 
 To THE Old Year 182 
 
 To THE New Year 183 
 
 Pearly Gates . . 184 
 
 "A Rainbow round about the Throne" . . .185 
 
 In the Garden 186 
 
 To the Heliotrope 187 
 
 "In Darkest England" i88 
 
 Imperfections 189 
 
 The Battle of Life 190 
 
 Figures of the True 191 
 
 Stream and Lake 192 
 
 The Breton Fishermen's Prayer 193 
 
 The Best till Last 194 
 
 Means and End i95 
 
 No Room 196 
 
 Easter-Day ... 197 
 
 High and Lowly 198 
 
X Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Dead and the Living 199 
 
 The Evening and the Morning 2C30 
 
 Wulfruna's Hampton 201 
 
 On the Opening of the Imperial Institute . . . 202 
 
VERSES, WISE OR OTHERWISE 
 
My two earliest books, "Verses, Grave and 
 Gay" and "Verses, Wise or Otherwise," being out 
 of print, I have — in compliance with the requests of 
 numerous kind readers — brought out a new edition 
 of these works, combining them in one volume 
 for the greater convenience of all concerned, and 
 making such omissions as I thought desirable. 
 
 E. T. F. 
 
VERSES, WISE OR OTHERWISE. 
 
 The cynics say that every rose 
 Is guarded by a thorn which grows 
 
 To spoil our posies : 
 But I no pleasure therefore lack ; 
 I keep my hands behind my back 
 
 When snjelling roses. 
 
 'Tis proved that Sodom's apple-tarts 
 Have ashes as component parts 
 
 For those that steal them : 
 My soul no disillusion seeks ; 
 I love my apples' rosy cheeks, 
 
 But never peel them. 
 
14 Vekses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Though outwardly a gloomy shroud, 
 The inner half of every cloud 
 
 Is bright and shining : 
 I therefore turn my clouds about, 
 And always wear them inside out 
 
 To show the lining. 
 
 Our idols' feet are made of clay ; 
 So stony-hearted critics say 
 
 With scornful mockings : 
 My images are deified 
 Because I keep them well supplied 
 
 With shoes and stockings. 
 
 My modus operandi this — 
 
 To take no heed of what's amiss ; 
 
 And not a bad one : 
 Because, as Shakspere used to say, 
 A merry heart goes twice the way 
 
 That tires a sad one. 
 
IS 
 
 91 Cran£fmiffratiott of ^oulsf* 
 
 It was whispered by the sages 
 Of the prehistoric ages, 
 When all telegrams and newspapers and letters were 
 unknown, 
 That the heathen gods felt jealous — 
 So the ancient legends tell us — 
 When the happiness of mortals was more perfect than 
 their own. 
 
 In the days that I have quoted 
 You and I, dear, were devoted 
 
 To each other with a fervour which we never, never 
 see 
 In this age of shams and shoddies : 
 For our souls wore Grecian bodies. 
 
 And found life a very pleasant thing in sunny Arcady. 
 
1 6 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Then the heathen gods grew spiteful 
 As our lot was so delightful, 
 And they said, "These twain shall live again when 
 worldliness is rife ; 
 And when we are out of fashion 
 They shall nurse a hopeless passion. 
 And shall learn that love counts nothing in the game 
 of human life." 
 
 But we love again to-day, dear. 
 In the old ecstatic way, dear. 
 Though we see each other rarely and our paths lie 
 far apart : 
 Ancient gods and modern London 
 Have been overthrown and undone, 
 When they tried alike their utmost to expel you from 
 my heart. 
 
 And my people ask politely 
 How a friend I know so slightly 
 Can be more to me than others I have liked a year 
 or so ? 
 But they cannot solve the mystery 
 Of our transmigration's history, 
 For they've no idea I loved you those millenniums 
 ago. 
 
17 
 
 9in Illusion* 
 
 Do you know that the sight of your face, 
 Though I see you each day of the seven, 
 
 Can transfigure the commonest place 
 Into something that seems to be heaven ? 
 
 Do you know that the sound of your voice, 
 When you utter a brief salutation. 
 
 Bids the stars of the morning rejoice 
 As they did at the dawn of creation ? 
 
 Do you know that the clasp of your hand. 
 In a purely conventional greeting, 
 
 Makes this earth a mysterious land 
 
 Where the fairies are holding a meeting ? 
 
 Do you know that the ways you pass by, 
 
 When the stream of the traffic is flowing, 
 Are like ladders which lead to the sky, 
 Whereon angels are coming and going ? 
 B 
 
1 8 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Do you know that your Yea or your Nay 
 Lays its clasp on my soul like a fetter ? 
 
 Whilst regarding myself I can say 
 
 That I know that I ought to know better. 
 
19 
 
 ier parting ^mu 
 
 Farewell for ever, my dear sir, 
 Your pride and prejudice incur 
 
 My wrath beyond all measure : 
 I am aweary of your ways. 
 So scarce and scanty is your praise, 
 
 So scathing your displeasure. 
 
 The poet's solitude d deux 
 
 Would prove no heaven on earth with you. 
 
 Whose satire is unswerving : 
 Far better you should try your hand 
 In petty purgatories planned 
 
 For folk you deem deserving. 
 
 Go, trample fools beneath your feet. 
 And sit upon the scorner's seat, 
 
 And sneer at those about you ! 
 Whilst as for me ? — I should prefer 
 Your Purgatory, my dear sir, 
 
 To Paradise without you. 
 
20 
 
 **9i iSIanfe, Mv itort. 
 
 »» 
 
 " We met (like others) in a crowd " — 
 
 A very unromantic meeting ! 
 Yet fate to us has ne'er allowed 
 
 A warmer greeting. 
 
 For you were poor, you will allow, 
 
 And 'I was not, that bright September 
 When first we met. (I wonder now 
 If you remember.) 
 
 In fashion's chains you saw me led, 
 
 And so it never struck you clearly 
 That it could come into my head 
 
 To love you dearly. 
 
 'Twas not your fault, I must admit ; 
 
 You simply worshipped from a distance, 
 And I could take no note of it 
 
 Without assistance. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 21 
 
 And thus we drifted far apart, 
 
 Not bound by e'en the frailest fetter ; 
 Yet yours completely was my heart 
 For worse or better. 
 
 So, owing to your fatal pride, 
 
 And owing to my foolish shyness, 
 The love, you never knew of, died 
 For ever. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
22 
 
 So without saying a word we've parted, 
 
 Though that you loved me full well I knew : 
 Little you guess I am broken-hearted — 
 
 Little you think that I cared for you. 
 Vainly I looked in your face, and vainly 
 
 Thrilled at your touch when you clasped my hand 
 I was unable to speak more plainly — 
 
 You were unable to understand. 
 
 Why did you take all I said for certain 
 
 When I so gleefully threw the glove .' 
 Couldn't you see that I made a curtain 
 
 Out of my laughter to hide my love ? 
 Didn't you know that your daily greeting 
 
 Sounded like strains from an angel band ? 
 Though to that measure my pulse was beating, 
 
 You were unable to understand. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 23 
 
 Wherefore my wonderful dream is over ; 
 
 Finis is written on Fancy's scroll : 
 You are on desolate shores a rover — 
 
 I must in patience possess my soul. 
 What though my heart was a mark for Cupid — 
 
 What though our way lay through fairyland ? 
 All availed nothing, since you — you stupid ! — 
 
 You were unable to understand. 
 
24 
 
 Coo ^ure* 
 
 Sweetheart, you trusted me completely — 
 
 More than I trusted in myself : 
 On mere acquaintances smiled sweetly, 
 
 But friends you left upon the shelf. 
 Believing they would bow before you 
 
 However careless you might be : 
 And so you lost the love I bore you, 
 
 Because you made too sure of me. 
 
 You had no thought of being cruel — 
 
 To you I know my love was dear : 
 But would you keep a precious jewel 
 
 Unwatched while thieves were prowling near ? 
 Or would you leave a golden lily 
 
 To grow unguarded on the lea ? 
 If love is priceless, it was silly 
 
 To make so very sure of me. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 25 
 
 Now choose another friend, my sweet one, 
 
 Among the thousands passing by : 
 There is no doubt but you will meet one 
 
 More suited to your taste than I. 
 All vain regrets I bid you smother, 
 
 And learn this lesson " gratis free," 
 To be as careful of that other 
 
 As you have been too sure of me. 
 
26 
 
 Wt)t ^lamt iMarsi, 
 
 There are people living in Mars, they say, 
 
 Enjoying the lease of a longer year 
 And a starrier night and a sunnier day 
 
 And steadier climates than we have here. 
 Are their Winters blighted by want and woe, 
 
 Their Summers by pestilence, plague and thunder ? 
 Do they suffer there as we do below, 
 I wonder? 
 
 Do they plant and water their rosy fields. 
 
 And struggle with sorrow and fight with fears. 
 
 While the thorns and thistles their red earth yields 
 Are choking the seed that they sowed in tears ? 
 
 Do they trust in idols of stone and wood. 
 And trample the meek and the lowly under ? 
 
 Do they love the evil and leave the good, 
 I wonder? 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 27 
 
 Or a happier world may it be than this, 
 
 Where sin hath not entered nor death by sin ; 
 
 Which is blushing still from Creation's kiss, 
 Whilst never a serpent has slidden in ? 
 
 And if we may wander among the stars 
 When body and spirit are riven asunder, 
 
 Shall we live life over again in Mars, 
 I wonder ? 
 
 Shall we find what here we have sought in vain — 
 
 Fulfilling ideals where once we failed ? 
 With the crooked made straight and the rough made 
 plain, 
 Will difficult mountains at last be scaled ? 
 Shall we cleanse our ways and redeem our worth, 
 
 Repair the old wastes and retrieve each blunder ? 
 Shall we meet in Mars all we missed on Earth, 
 I wonder ? 
 
28 
 
 Jacob buried his gods at Shechem — 
 
 Cast-oflf idols of stone and wood ; 
 Well he wot they would ne'er bespeak him 
 
 Further evil nor future good : 
 Nevertheless he could not treat them 
 
 Just like pieces of wood and stone, 
 When he thought how he'd tried to seat them 
 
 Up aloft on an altar-throne. 
 
 Once an idol I fondly cherished, 
 
 Which was known by the name you bear ; 
 But my faith in its virtues perished 
 
 When I found it was false as fair : 
 Nevertheless I could not break it 
 
 Like an image of worthless clay. 
 When I thought how I'd tried to make it 
 
 All I ever could hope or pray. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 29 
 
 In my heart — down a shady hollow 
 
 Where the willow of weeping waves — 
 Hide false gods, I was wont to follow, 
 
 Out of sight in forgotten graves. 
 There you lie with no name above you. 
 
 With no epitaph false or true, 
 Save the fact that I used to love you 
 
 Ere at Shechem I buried you. 
 
30 
 
 For many a frivolous, festive year 
 
 I followed the path that I felt I must : 
 I failed to discover the road was drear, 
 
 And rather than otherwise liked the dust. 
 It lay through a land that I knew of old, 
 
 Frequented by friendly, familiar folk 
 Who bowed before Mammon, and heaped up gold. 
 
 And lived like their neighbours, and loved their 
 joke. 
 
 You told me to look through a fast-locked gate 
 
 Which led to a garden in fairyland. 
 Where roses were reigning in royal state 
 
 With never a thorn for the gleaner's hand ; 
 Where lilies with honey-sweet dew were filled. 
 
 And love-birds were flitting from tree to tree ; 
 Where frosts never entered nor fierce winds chilled : 
 
 But closed was that gateway to you and me. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 31 
 
 That glimpse of the garden across the way 
 
 Has left me henceforth for the road unfit : 
 The traffic rolls onward from day to day, 
 
 And sick is my soul at the sound of it. 
 Oh ! why did you dangle before mine eyes 
 
 Desirable fruit that the Fates forbid 
 Lest we, like to gods, should grow great and wise ? 
 
 And yet on the whole I am glad you did. 
 
32 
 
 I BELIEVED you an angel the first time we met, 
 Undefiled by life's flurry and fever and fret, 
 So I deigned to approve you. 
 
 Then I learned you were not all my fancy had weened. 
 So I straightway decided you must be a fiend, 
 And I sought to remove you. 
 
 Now I find you are something half-way'twixt the two — 
 Neither angel nor fiend but just human are you. 
 And I know that I love you. 
 
33 
 
 9i Cool Ciisitomen 
 
 My friend, you make a rule, I see. 
 
 In passing through this valley tearful 
 To keep your heart completely free 
 
 From feelings fond or fierce or fearful. 
 You stand aloof from Fate's swift stream, 
 
 And smile at Folly's sons and daughters 
 With wonder that they ever dream 
 
 Of dabbling in such dangerous waters. 
 
 Pray hear a fable of a fool 
 
 Who lit a fire, rejoicing in it. 
 Because he felt the day was cool 
 
 And growing cooler every minute. 
 But when the smoke began to rise 
 
 Beyond the height of his desire, 
 He said : " Perchance I was unwise 
 
 To play with such a thing as fire." 
 
 C 
 
34 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 And so he blew his bonfire out, 
 
 Extinguishing its fitful flashes ; 
 He flung the cinders all about, 
 
 Then died of cold among the ashes : 
 Remarking with his latest breath, 
 
 " In living coals some danger lingers ; 
 So if one can but freeze to death 
 
 One wisely never burns one's fingers." 
 
35 
 
 They knew not whence the tyrant came, 
 They did not even know his name ; 
 Yet he compelled them one and all 
 To bow in bondage to his thrall ; 
 And from their lips allegiance wrung, 
 Although a stranger to their tongue. 
 
 Whilst he was wrapped in royal state, 
 Their hours of toil were long and late : 
 No moment could they call their own 
 Within the precincts of the throne ; 
 And when they dreamed their work was o'er 
 He only made them slave the more. 
 
 Although the conquering king was he 
 Of people who had once been free. 
 No word of praise or promise fell 
 From him his subjects served so well ; 
 And none of those who crowned him lord. 
 Received a shadow of reward. 
 
36 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Obedience to his behest 
 
 Destroyed their peace, disturbed their rest ; 
 
 Yet when his drowsy eyes grew dim, 
 
 No mortal dared to waken him : 
 
 They stole about with stealthy tread — 
 
 " The baby is asleep," they said. 
 
37 
 
 PART I. 
 
 A FAIRY Prince supremely brave and good, 
 When searching for knight-errantly adventures, 
 
 Chanced on a Sleeping Beauty in a wood. 
 Condemned by ancient usage's indentures 
 
 To close to politics each pretty eyelid, 
 
 Lest her sweet soul should thereby be defilM. 
 
 The Prince at first was much perplexed and pained 
 At the existence of so sore a scandal : 
 
 " Woman," he cried, " in all men's hearts has reigned 
 And trampled them to dust beneath her sandal ; 
 
 Yet where's the champion that the Fates have sent us 
 
 To give to her the Vote ? — Non est inventus ! " 
 
 But then he mused, " To win the world's applause 
 
 Men soon become hard, bellicose and spiteful ; 
 They scratch each other with their conscience-claws 
 
38 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 And disagreement loud they find delightful : 
 Then would the preaching of this harsh evangel 
 Be suited to ' the ministering angel ' ? 
 
 " When Eve employed her influence in the State, 
 We did not thank her for her interference : 
 
 Boadicea was not blest by Fate 
 
 In spite of all the charms of her appearance ; 
 
 While Clytemnestra, with some other ladies, 
 
 Works out her sentence, I have read, in Hades. 
 
 " Xantippe, if her temper was aflame, 
 
 Was quite unpleasant when they tried to tease her ; 
 Queen Mary — though a most religious dame — 
 
 Lighted the fire with folks who didn't please her ; 
 And Troy — unless historians betray us — 
 Owed all its woes to Mrs. Menelaus. 
 
 " Elizabeth sat firm upon her throne ; 
 
 But when she found opinions did not vary 
 That Scotland's royal charms eclipsed her own, 
 
 She soon decapitated Cousin Mary. 
 Woman for public life has too much gumption, 
 But was expressly made for home consumption. 
 
 " For, lovely woman, though perchance you wield 
 
 Your power capriciously in times of leisure. 
 And are distinguished on life's battle-field 
 
Vmrses, Wise or Otherwise. 39 
 
 By neither giving nor receiving pleasure ; 
 ' When pain and anguish wring ' the aching forehead, 
 Why then, you know, you're anything but horrid ! 
 
 " Woman, when sheltered from the storm and strife. 
 Gains more distinct advantage than she misses. 
 
 (So does the State, I think.) Upon my life, 
 I'd rather not awake her with my kisses ! " 
 
 The Prince departed with this sentence racy, 
 
 " Dear lady ! — requiescat still in pace" 
 
 The Sleeping Beauty murmured in her dreams, 
 " A nice young man, and one that I could care for. 
 
 As for his arguments on social themes, 
 
 I fail to understand their why and wherefore. 
 
 His hair is curly and his arm strong-sinewed : 
 
 I wonder who he is." 
 
 {To be continued.) 
 
40 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Though princes left unkissed the Beauty's brow, 
 The Spirit of the Age could not allow 
 
 Perfection 
 Like hers to be politically nil, 
 Or suffer what was termed by Stuart Mill 
 " Subjection." 
 
 The Spirit of the Age politely tapped 
 The lady's door, remarking as he rapped, 
 
 " My daughter. 
 Since Reason's sun has risen over all, 
 'Tis time for thee to hear the morning call — 
 Hot water ! 
 
 " The night of woman's bondage now is gone. 
 When work and warfare by the men were done 
 
 (And wooing): 
 The lark sings loud — the lily opes her cup — 
 None sleep save thee ; so, lady fair, be up 
 
 And doing ! " 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 41 
 
 At first the Beauty thought she would arise 
 And open her bewildered, dreamy eyes 
 
 Completely : 
 But then she shrank from ills she did not know, 
 And, clinging blindly to the status quo, 
 
 Said sweetly : 
 
 " Into hot water I should get no doubt 
 If I obeyed your call, and bring about 
 
 Confusion. 
 Like Dr. Watts's Sluggard, I complain, 
 • Too soon you've waked me — I must sleep again ! ' " 
 
 {Conclusion.) 
 
42 
 
 91 Ceap#ear JljpIL 
 
 Once on a time there lived a little maiden 
 
 In that strange land which lies beneath the sun, 
 Whose loyal heart with love was overladen 
 For one 
 
 Who meant to keep unmarried till his latter day, 
 Whose tastes were simple and whose cares were 
 few, 
 Who read his Times, and revelled in his Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 It was the longed-for year when love-sick spinsters 
 
 Lead bachelors, who have not sought a bride, 
 Up middle-aisles of dim, religious minsters 
 With pride. 
 
 On Leap-year wooings and on Leap-year winnings 
 
 The mind of the undaunted maiden ran ; 
 So she, determined to enjoy her innings. 
 Began 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 43 
 
 (Her voice, as she proceeded, growing snappier): 
 
 " Dear Sir, however happy you may be, 
 I'm certain you'd be infinitely happier 
 With me. 
 
 " A wife would share your every little trouble, 
 
 Increasing every joy your heart that fills ; 
 She'd halve your income, and exactly double 
 Your bills. 
 
 " Hark how the poets woman's praise are singing ! 
 You doubt their words, but you will find them 
 true 
 When pain and anguish undertake the wringing 
 Of you. 
 
 " O man, proud man ! how sad a fate would his be 
 
 If lovely woman from his side retired : 
 Pyramus, when divided from his Thisbe, 
 Expired : 
 
 " Jack minus Jill, forsooth, had fallen flatter : 
 
 Darby was nobody without his Joan : 
 Jack Spratt could never have cleaned out the 
 platter 
 
 Alone : 
 
44 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 " King Edward found his Queen's assistance handy 
 
 When poisoned arrows nearly spoiled the fun : 
 Griselda proved her modus operandi 
 Ai. 
 
 " To tell like stories I can gladly go on 
 
 For hours and hours with rapid tongue and glib — 
 Quote Enid, Portia, Juliet, and so on, 
 Ad lib. — 
 
 " To prove my point until at last you see it ; 
 
 And you must take my word for it till then." 
 The hapless victim meekly sighed, " So be it, 
 Amen." 
 
45 
 
 91 iBmttttU of (Bmtm. 
 
 Like those three goddesses who ruled the earth 
 And used Olympus as their private chapel, 
 
 Who went to Paris to decide their worth 
 After the disagreement of the apple — 
 
 The Queens at cards began to quibble meanly, 
 
 And quarrel as to which appeared most queenly. 
 
 Clubs' sovereign lady opened the debate — 
 " My rank entitles me to be your foreman ; 
 
 My family has been accounted great 
 Since we came over with the conquering Norman 
 
 'Twould be impossible to overrate us, 
 
 Regarding our unequalled social status." 
 
 The Queen of Diamonds said, " The love of pelf 
 Forms the mainspring of every human action ; 
 
 And so where'er I go I find myself 
 A solid ten-per-centre of attraction : 
 
 I always have wherewith to gild the bolus. 
 
 And make life's stream a regular Pactolus." 
 
46 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Her Majesty of Spades cried, " I adore 
 
 The Tree of Knowledge, cool and green and shady ; 
 Among its roots I delved for hidden lore 
 
 Till I became a highly-cultured lady, 
 And learned to call the tool wherewith I grovel 
 A prehistoric or Adamic shovel." 
 
 Hearts' Queen observed, " My fortune is my face ; 
 
 I am not great at books or work or cooking ; 
 My temper's good, my form is full of grace, 
 
 And everyone considers me nice-looking ; 
 But not my most devoted friends would ever 
 Describe me as distinguished, rich or clever." 
 
 These rival spirits were so much aflame. 
 
 That to control themselves they were not able ; 
 
 So, heedless of the grammar of the game. 
 
 They sprang in quick succession on the table ; 
 
 Hearts' reigning beauty took the trick instanter. 
 
 And beat her royal sisters in a canter. 
 
 Whereat exclaimed the three disgusted Queens, 
 "In Denmark's state there's surely something rotten ! 
 
 We've not the faintest notion what it means." 
 
 That Hearts were trumps they'd all of them for- 
 gotten, 
 
 And that — till men and manners strangely alter — 
 
 " Love rules court, camp, and grove." * 
 
 * See Scott (Sir Walter). 
 
47 
 
 I CARVED an idol out of wood, 
 
 And worshipped it while it was new ; 
 
 But you came by and said " What good 
 Can that unmeaning object do ? " 
 
 With coolness culled from thirty winters 
 
 You broke my idol into splinters. 
 
 I hewed an idol out of stone, 
 The whitest stone I ever saw ; 
 
 But by your proving it was shown 
 The marble had a hidden flaw. 
 
 Regardless of my heartstrings' quivers 
 
 You smashed my idol into shivers. 
 
 Your wisdom made me worn and old 
 And sick of life beneath the sun ; 
 
 Yet you passed onward, calm and cold, 
 Unconscious of the harm you'd done 
 
 By your crusade so strictly truthful 
 
 Against enthusiasms youthful. 
 
48 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 But sometime in the coming years 
 I hope that you may build a shrine, 
 
 And have it hurled about your ears 
 As you have dealt with me and mine ; 
 
 And meet — when like myself deluded — 
 
 With Mrs. Be-done-by-as-you-did. 
 
49 
 
 €i)t 2HnattainatiIe, 
 
 For the round and radiant moon 
 
 Once I cried, 
 But it happened that the boon 
 
 Was denied ; 
 For the cruel Fates decreed 
 
 That the pain 
 And the anguish of my need 
 
 Should remain. 
 
 So I turned again to earth 
 
 For relief : 
 Even moons are hardly worth 
 
 So much grief: 
 And I played with common toys 
 
 In my reach, 
 Till I wearied of the joys 
 
 Hid in each. 
 D 
 
50 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Then I raised my jaded eyes 
 
 To the sky, 
 While I watched the white moon rise, 
 
 With the cry — 
 " Better want the best, and waste 
 
 All our pains, 
 Than obtain the less, and taste 
 
 Lower gains ! " 
 
 If we scorn unworthy things 
 
 More and more. 
 While our thoughts on angel-wings 
 
 Upward soar. 
 Shall we find above the sphere 
 
 Of our woes 
 All the moons we cried for here ? — 
 
 No one knows. 
 
51 
 
 The wakening earth with ecstasy is thrilled, 
 And gladness tunes the note of every bird ; 
 Yet in my soul strange memories are stirred 
 When swallows build. 
 
 I miss those fragrant flowers the frost has killed, 
 Which bloomed in blushing beauty yester-year ; 
 And songs of bygone Springs I seem to hear 
 When swallows build : 
 
 For into lonely hearts there is instilled 
 The longing for a love as yet unknown, 
 But which they fondly yearn to call their own 
 When swallows build. 
 
 So deem me neither sullen nor self-willed 
 If in the Spring I sing no psalm of glee. 
 But hang my harp upon a willow-tree 
 When swallows build. 
 
52 Verses, Wise ok Otherwise. 
 
 With gladness shall my Summer song be filled, 
 My Christmas carol and my Harvest hymn : 
 But let my lips be dumb, mine eyes be dim, 
 When swallows build. 
 
53 
 
 Once I made me a god with a head of wood, 
 
 And a heart of stone ; 
 And I thought that the sum of created good 
 
 Was in him alone. 
 
 So I sharpened my wit and I strove to please 
 
 By the words I said ; 
 But the god I had made had no room for these 
 
 In his wooden head. 
 
 Then I poured out my love on the path he trod, 
 
 As he walked apart ; 
 But what use was mere love to a senseless god 
 
 With a stony heart .■' 
 
 I discovered the error of these my ways 
 
 When I learned to see : 
 But the god that I made in my foolish days 
 
 Had the best of me. 
 
54 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 I have gained in my wisdom, perchance, but lost 
 What the world called wit ; 
 
 For the god that I formed at such bitter cost 
 Crushed the life of it. 
 
 And no more shall I love with my heart and soul 
 
 Till I cease to live ; 
 For the god of my worship absorbed the whole 
 
 That I had to give. 
 
 I deserve to be beaten with heavy rods, 
 
 For I might have known 
 That their sorrows are many who make them gods 
 
 Out of wood and stone. 
 
55 
 
 When I met with you first in the olden days, 
 While life was beginning and love was new, 
 
 All the charms and the virtues most meet for praise 
 Seemed wrapped in one parcel and labelled You ; 
 
 So your word was my guide and your face my chart : 
 
 You were then my Ideal, Sweetheart, Sweetheart ! 
 
 When I learned that your ways were unlike to mine, 
 And that my thoughts and your thoughts were not 
 the same, 
 
 There were rifts in the lute, but I can't divine 
 If either or both of us were to blame ; 
 
 Yet my love for you turned to a cruel smart : 
 
 You were not my Ideal, Sweetheart, Sweetheart ! 
 
 When you went to the land where the angels dwell 
 And left me to linger beneath the sun, 
 
 I forgot all your faults, but remembered well 
 How dear you had been ere your day was done. 
 
 Of a truth it was best we were doomed to part : 
 
 You are still my Ideal, Sweetheart, Sweetheart ! 
 
56 
 
 in tfte Court ot tf)t 0mtUts. 
 
 Now it fell on a day that you opened wide 
 
 The door of your heart to me, 
 And I timidly ventured to peep inside, 
 
 The treasures thereof to see. 
 
 But you graciously bade me to enter in 
 
 And gaze on your inmost soul. 
 That your knowledge might knowledge in me begin— 
 
 Your wisdom might make me whole. 
 
 And because you thus called me from want and woe 
 
 To feast on your spirit's store, 
 On the strength of that meat I was fain to go 
 
 For forty odd days and more. 
 
 Then it happened again that I humbly stood 
 
 In front of your heart and knocked, 
 For my soul was athirst to be filled with good : 
 
 Alas ! but the door was locked ; 
 
V BUSES, W/SB OR Otherwise. 57 
 
 And "Shall strangers be welcome," you proudly 
 said, 
 
 " To eat of the rich man's fare ? 
 Is it meet that the dogs should receive the bread 
 
 Which falls to the children's share ? " 
 
 Oh ! the gate of your soul was your own, to do 
 Therewith as might please you best — 
 
 To be opened for many to enter through. 
 Or closed at your stern behest : 
 
 Yet I wonder you let me come in at all, 
 
 Dispelling my doubt and fear, 
 If the iron portcullis was bound to fall 
 
 Next time I should venture near. 
 
 Peradventure my spirit was over-bold, 
 
 Deserving a sharp retort ; 
 But I know to my cost it is dark and cold 
 
 Out here in the Strangers' Court 
 
58 
 
 Wf)t praisie of Mm* 
 
 Children in the market-place, 
 
 Merrily I piped to you ; 
 
 Yet the dance which was my due 
 Ne'er was trod with dainty pace. 
 Then I turned a troubled face 
 
 And my words were faint and few ; 
 
 Yet no pitying tears I drew, 
 Children in the market-place ! 
 
 Children in the market-place. 
 Unto me your Nay was Nay, 
 Though I longed to join your play 
 
 And to feel your warm embrace. 
 
 Vainly have I run my race — 
 Vainly worshipped gods of clay : 
 Now, too late, I learn your way. 
 
 Children in the market-place ! 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 59 
 
 Children in the market-place, 
 I am crying on my knees, 
 " That I lived for such as these 
 
 Is the depth of my disgrace. 
 
 Spare me yet a little space ; 
 And life's wine upon the lees 
 Shall not be outpoured to please 
 
 Children in the market-place ! " 
 
6o 
 
 " Dear lady," cried he, 
 " Can thy love for me 
 Be gone past recall like the morning dew ? 
 Was the world so cold 
 That our joy untold 
 Lay withered and dead while it yet was new ? " 
 With pitiful pathos she shook her head ; 
 " True love doth not die of the cold," she said. 
 
 " Kind lady," cried he, 
 " Can it truly be 
 That love which seemed perfect hath passed away ? 
 In affliction's night 
 Did it lose its light, 
 Which faded and fled like the dying day ? " 
 Her eyelids were heavy with tears unshed ; 
 " True love doth not die in the dark," she said. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 6i 
 
 " Fair lady," cried he, 
 " Didst thou chance to see, 
 When fate was unfolded before thy face, 
 That the dreary page 
 Of advancing age 
 Was hardly the leaf that thy love could trace ? " 
 With sorrowful anger her brow grew red ; 
 " True love doth not die of old age," she said. 
 
 " Sweet lady," cried he, 
 " Did I keep from thee 
 My best love for ever, and give my worst ? 
 Didst thou hold but part 
 Of mine inmost heart. 
 Where thou wert the second and I was first ? " 
 She lifted a face on which hope lay dead ; 
 " 'Twas selfishness slew my true love," she said. 
 
62 
 
 The public never heard his name, 
 So took no notice when he died ; 
 
 His little world went on the same, 
 Yet paused in passing to deride 
 
 A wretch who counted not the cost. 
 
 But played the game of life — and lost. 
 
 " A luckless wight," his brothers said ; 
 
 " The foe of no one but himself ! " 
 His sisters half disdained the dead 
 
 Who left them neither place nor pelf. 
 His kinsmen, in reproachful gloom. 
 Inscribed their Tekel on his tomb. 
 
 His dearest friends exclaimed, " Poor fool ! 
 
 He made a muddle of his life ; 
 He won no honours in its school. 
 
 He wore no laurels in its strife.'' 
 So he was cursed of all his clan, 
 Except of me, who loved the man. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 63 
 
 I wonder if the world to come 
 
 Will be as hard a world as this, 
 With glory for the favoured Some 
 
 Who take the prize and taste the bliss ; 
 But for the failing Many scorn 
 Too harsh and bitter to be borne ? 
 
 If so, my soul will roam afar 
 
 From streets of gold and streams of light, 
 And seek him in some distant star 
 
 Beyond the dark abyss of night. 
 Though harps be dumb and crowns be dim 
 I care not, if I comfort him. 
 
64 
 
 €i}t ilan m tfte Jron ilasfe* 
 
 You were left in the depths of a dungeon to languish 
 
 With no hope to dispel the gloom ; 
 And we picture your features disfigured by anguish 
 
 In their terrible iron tomb ; 
 For your food was the bitterest bread of affliction, 
 
 And your flagon a tear-filled flask, 
 While your spirit was seared with Despair's super- 
 scription, 
 
 O Man in the Iron Mask 1 
 
 Yet we mimic your fate, you mysterious traitor, 
 
 In so far as it suits our ken ; 
 For the image we bear of our mighty Creator 
 
 We conceal from the gaze of men. 
 By a visor composed of absurd affectations 
 
 We regard it our noblest task 
 To disguise our true selves and our best aspirations, 
 
 O Man in the Iron Mask ! 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 65 
 
 But it fell on a day that by Death you were smitten, 
 
 And you flung off your fetters grim : 
 Then God read on your forehead what Life had there 
 written, 
 For no masks will avail with Him. 
 And as Truth cannot fail, though men flout and for- 
 sake her, 
 For our guidance we fain would ask 
 How you felt when your face was exposed to its 
 Maker, 
 O Man in the Iron Mask ! 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 ft 
 
 jfor 35etter, for WiQv^u'* 
 
 Quoth he, " Sweetheart, thou art young and fair, 
 And thy story has just begun ; 
 But I am as old 
 As a tale that is told, 
 And the days of my youth are done." 
 " O'er ruins olden the clinging moss 
 Doth a mantle of velvet spread : 
 Shall the climbing flower 
 Be more to the tower 
 Than I to my Love ? " she said. 
 
 Quoth he, " Sweetheart, thou hast lands and gold. 
 And thou knowest not want nor woe ; 
 As a beggar poor 
 I stand at thy door, 
 And I only can love thee so." 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 6j 
 
 " Through leafless forests the sunbeams creep, 
 All the wealth of their gold to shed : 
 
 And are they more fair 
 
 To the woodland bare 
 Than I to my Love ? " she said. 
 
 Quoth he, " Sweetheart thou art good and kind. 
 And wouldst never the lowest spurn ; 
 
 But the storm of life 
 
 With its toil and strife 
 Has rendered me harsh and stern." 
 " The brooklet murmurs its sweetest lays 
 As it makes for the rocks ahead : 
 
 Shall the streamlet's song 
 
 Be more brave and strong 
 Than I for my Love ? " she said. 
 
 Quoth he, " Sweetheart, thou art blithe and gay, 
 And thou never hast known a care ; 
 
 But my face is worn 
 
 And my heart is torn 
 With the sorrow I've had to bear.''' 
 " The stars ne'er spangle the sapphire sky 
 Till the brightness of day has fled : 
 
 Shall the pale starlight 
 
 Be truer to night 
 Than I to my Love ? " she said. 
 
68 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Quoth he, " Sweetheart, who art young and fair. 
 Will thy wonderful love to me 
 
 Through sorrow and shame 
 
 Be always the same ? " 
 " Nay, it rather will grow," said she. 
 Again he cried, " Will it last. Sweetheart, 
 Till thy lover lies cold and dead. 
 
 And thy latest breath 
 
 Has been hushed in death ? " 
 " Aye, longer than that," she said. 
 
60 
 
 Dearest, in my heart's recesses 
 
 Thou wilt find no lonely spot 
 Which thy presence never blesses — 
 
 Where the thought of thee is not. 
 Pass the open doors and straightway 
 
 Search the chambers, scale the stair : 
 Still from battlement to gateway 
 
 Thou art always everywhere. 
 
 In the nursery, where unbidden 
 
 Dust has buried childish joys, 
 Memories of thee are hidden 
 
 With the long-forsaken toys. 
 In the castle-turrets airy. 
 
 Built, ere girlhood's dreams had flown, 
 By some strange fantastic fairy. 
 
 Thou art still the corner-stone. 
 
yo Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 In the happy pleasure-garden 
 
 Thou art walking all the while ; 
 Winter frosts can never harden 
 
 In the sunlight of thy smile. 
 At thy touch the fragrant spices 
 
 All their sweetest perfumes yield, 
 And the honey that suffices 
 
 Fills the lilies of the field. 
 
 In the dungeon's darkest centre, 
 
 Where the iron has been wrought 
 Which within the soul must enter 
 
 Ere the final fight is fought — 
 Where forsaken hopes are flitting 
 
 Pale and ghostlike through the gloom- 
 Even there I find thee sitting 
 
 Like the Angel on the Tomb. 
 
 In the Holiest, when the chrism 
 
 Of the mystic Gilead-balm 
 Soothes me with its sweet baptism 
 
 As I hear the far-off psalm 
 Sung by seraph-choirs to guide me 
 
 Up the sloping altar-stairs, 
 Then I feel thee close beside me. 
 
 And thy voice is one with theirs. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 71 
 
 Hope may fail and Faith may falter, 
 
 Art and Learning may decay, 
 Tongues may cease and times may alter, 
 
 Prophecy may pass away ; 
 But as long as Love immortal 
 
 In its strength unshaken stands. 
 Thou shalt dwell within the portal 
 
 Of my house not made with hands. 
 
72 
 
 Thou art not to blame, dear, 
 
 That my soul is hurt ; 
 Thou art just the same, dear, 
 
 As thou always wert ; 
 Thou wouldst never grieve me- 
 
 Thou art far too kind : 
 'Tis myself, believe me, 
 
 That I have to mind. 
 
 For I fell a-dreaming 
 
 Once upon a time, 
 In my folly deeming 
 
 Simple things sublime ; 
 And the best ideal 
 
 That my heart could frame 
 Seemed a being real 
 
 Christened by thy name. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 73 
 
 What thou really art, love — 
 
 What my fancy guessed — 
 Are as far apart, love, 
 
 As the East and West. 
 All my adoration 
 
 Was bestowed in vain 
 On the mere creation 
 
 Of my foolish brain. 
 
 Can I scold thee, seeing 
 
 All the blame was mine } 
 Scorn thee for not being 
 
 Other self than thine ? 
 Thou wert not in fault, dear. 
 
 Even in my Sight, 
 That I did exalt, dear, 
 
 Thee to such a height. 
 
 Through the long to-morrow, 
 
 I, who did this thing. 
 Must endure the sorrow 
 
 It is bound to bring ; 
 Showing by no token 
 
 How my heart doth ache 
 And is well-nigh broken 
 
 By my own mistake. 
 
74 Verses, Wise or Otherwise, 
 
 I would scorn as bubbles 
 
 Earthly hopes and fears — 
 I would smile at troubles 
 
 In the coming years — 
 If thou couldst but seem, love, 
 
 Once again to me 
 All I used to dream, love ! 
 
 But it cannot be. 
 
75 
 
 How sweet were the dreams that we dreamed, old 
 friend, 
 
 Together, when life had but just begun ! 
 How sad are our thoughts now we see the end 
 
 Of the vanity practised beneath the sun ! 
 We neither have done what we meant to do — 
 
 We have neither become what we hoped to be : 
 Disappointment has darkened the day for you — 
 
 Disillusion has dawned on the world for me. 
 
 For one special treasure you vainly sought. 
 
 And laughed at the toil that the search entailed : 
 You worked and you waited, you prayed and fought. 
 
 And your heart was broken because you failed. 
 So now you are bitter and hard and stern. 
 
 Regarding the world as your cruel foe : 
 As you have not the blessing for which you yearn, 
 
 You scornfully let all the others go. 
 
?6 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 I also began with a grand ideal, 
 
 And waited and wrestled and toiled and prayed ; 
 Till I found at last the prosaic real 
 
 So different from all that my dreams pourtrayed. 
 Then I ceased from the struggle and strain and 
 strife, 
 
 As the work and the waiting seemed all in vain ; 
 And I made up my mind to enjoy my life, 
 
 Nor heed that the hopes of my youth were slain. 
 
 Am I happy ? Yes : I have ceased to pine 
 
 For things that I know are beyond my reach : 
 I have eaten the husks with the herd of swine, 
 
 Extracting what pleasure I could from each. 
 Whilst you have been fretting your heart away 
 
 For joys it was fated you should not iind, 
 I have made myself merry from day to day, 
 
 And left all the dreams of the past behind. 
 
 Yet I envy you, 'spite of your bitter pain ; 
 
 Because — through earth's hubbub, that grates and 
 jars — 
 You are listening still to the far-off strain 
 
 Which is sung on high by the morning stars. 
 You never would turn your eyes to the ground 
 
 From the heaven-sent vision they once had seen ; 
 So ready and waiting will you be found 
 
 When the angels bring you your "might have 
 been." 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 77 
 
 But as for myself, I have piped so long 
 
 The jangling refrains of the market-place, 
 That now I am deaf to the seraph-song 
 
 Which is floating forever through fields of space : 
 Among Kedar's tents I have dwelt at ease, 
 
 Forgetting my home in the mansions blest ; 
 The worst has had power my soul to please. 
 
 So it is not for me to attain the best. 
 
78 
 
 €i)t Wlomtn of WRtin^httQ. 
 
 (From the German,'] 
 
 The army of King Conrad, the Hohenstaufen, lay 
 Before the gates of Weinsberg for many a weary 
 
 day: 
 The citizens were conquer'd, yet their arms they laid 
 
 not down, 
 But still defended to the last their noble native 
 
 town. 
 
 But hunger overcame them — no more they held their 
 
 ground : 
 In vain they sought for mercy — no mercy then they 
 
 found : 
 Quoth Conrad, " Many soldiers brave have here been 
 
 slain by you ; 
 If once you open wide your gates my swords shall 
 
 pierce you through ! " 
 
Vmrses, Wise or Otherwise. 79 
 
 The women then petitioned : " If what thou say'st 
 
 must be, 
 Oh ! let us leave the town unharmed, for innocent are 
 
 we." 
 When Conrad heard their pleading cry, his anger died 
 
 away. 
 And in its stead came pity for such helpless fools as 
 
 they. 
 
 " The women may depart," he said, " and each may 
 
 take from here 
 As much as she can carry of the things she counts 
 
 most dear : 
 As much as she can carry of her treasures she may 
 
 steal : 
 To this King Conrad signs his name and sets his 
 
 royal seal." 
 
 When the early, early morning was dawning fair and 
 
 bright. 
 The Hohenstaufen's army saw a strange and wondrous 
 
 sight : 
 The city gates were opened wide, and forth from 
 
 every street 
 Came crowds of starving women with slow and 
 
 tott'ring feet. 
 
8o Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 But when they saw the burdens the soldiers' brows 
 
 were black ; 
 For each one bore her husband right bravely on her 
 
 back. 
 " Down with their choicest treasures ! " was now the 
 
 angry cry — 
 " These women have outwitted us, and they shall 
 
 surely die ! " 
 
 But when King Conrad saw them, a loud, loud laugh 
 laughed he, 
 
 "Right well the Weinsberg women have now out- 
 witted me ! 
 
 I cannot break my promise, nor alter my command. 
 
 For a monarch's word is sacred in the German 
 Fatherland." 
 
 Thus Conrad kept his promise, as the ancient legends 
 tell: 
 
 In the year eleven hundred and forty it befell ; 
 
 So in those distant ages men had learnt to under- 
 stand 
 
 That a monarch's word is sacred in the German 
 Fatherland. 
 
8i 
 
 (BolXitn IBaffJotiilg* 
 
 The Winter days are o'er, 
 And hungry little birds no more 
 Come tamely begging to the door 
 
 And on the window-sills ; 
 Sweet songsters chirp on every spray, 
 The fields are bright with lambs at play, 
 And all the sombre woods are gay 
 
 With golden daffodils. 
 
 They deck the meads with cloth of gold, 
 They make sweet sunshine o'er the wold ; 
 They dance with joy and glee untold 
 
 To music of the rills ; 
 They chase away old Winter's frown. 
 Spring's coming publish up and down, 
 And Queen proclaim her with a crown 
 
 Of golden daffodils. 
 F 
 
82 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 They are not regal as the rose 
 Which in my lady's garden grows, 
 Nor fragrant as the thyme which blows 
 
 Upon the sun-kissed hills ; 
 No daisy's secret can they tell, 
 Nor cast the poppy's soothing spell ; 
 But yet, methinks, I love them well — 
 
 These golden daffodils. 
 
 What though they be not wondrous fair, 
 Nor boast a beauty past compare, 
 Nor yield a perfume rich and rare 
 
 Which nigh with sweetness kills ? 
 They bring a smile to earth's worn face. 
 And make her gladsome with their grace, 
 E'en though they be but commonplace — 
 
 My golden daffodils. 
 
 To me each flower a message brings, 
 That from the smallest, simplest things 
 A world of joy and pleasure springs, 
 
 And hearts with gladness fills. 
 If we will but remember this — 
 To value each for what it is. 
 And not expect too rare a bliss 
 
 From golden daffodils. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 83 
 
 Still one more lesson do they teach : 
 Should great things lie beyond our reach, 
 It falls within the lot of each 
 
 Who duty's claim fulfils — 
 Unhelped by special charm or grace — 
 To make, for just a little space, 
 " A sunshine in a shady place," 
 
 Like golden dafifodils. 
 
84 
 
 iLent--2LiIies. 
 
 Gay Lent-lilies, that are twinkling 
 
 Starlike in the springing grass, 
 How we love to see you sprinkling 
 
 All the meadows as we pass ! 
 Gladly ye foretell the story 
 
 Of the happy days to come, 
 With their spell of Summer glory 
 
 And their peace of Harvest-home. 
 
 Poor Lent-lilies, that are gleaming 
 
 In your diadems of dew, 
 Know ye not that ye are dreaming 
 
 Of delights not meant for you ? 
 Ere the Summer brings her pleasures- 
 
 Ere the sombre woods are gay — ■ 
 Ere the Autumn flings her treasures — 
 
 Ye will all have passed away. 
 
Vesses, Wise or Otherwise. 85 
 
 Sweet Lent-lilies, do not sorrow, 
 
 For, perchance, 'tis better so : 
 Disillusions of the morrow 
 
 Ye for ever shall forego. 
 We in Summer heat may languish, 
 
 And by Autumn winds be chilled — 
 Ye can never know the anguish 
 
 Of a cherished hope fulfilled. 
 
 Rich Lent-lilies, that are wasting 
 
 Gold upon the lonely lea. 
 Grudge us not our bitter tasting 
 
 Of the fatal knowledge-tree. 
 Summer's sweets may cloy to loathing — 
 
 Autumn's wealth its cares may bring ; 
 Blest are ye, whose fate holds nothing 
 
 But the joyful hope of Spring ! 
 
86 
 
 When did I hear thee call me from life's feast 
 To walk instead the narrow way of truth ? — 
 When did I know thee best and heed thee least ? — 
 Perchance in Youth. 
 
 When shall I trace thy teaching to its end, 
 
 And find that on my fate's close-written page 
 The sweetest lines are those that thou hast penned ?- 
 Perchance in Age. 
 
 When shall I cease to miss thee from my side, 
 To yearn for thee with every passing breath. 
 To pray for thee at morn and eventide ? — 
 Perchance in Death. 
 
 When shall I meet thee once again to tell 
 
 How thou hast been my life's upraising leaven, 
 To answer to thy questions — " All is well " ? — 
 Perchance in Heaven. 
 
8; 
 
 €1)0X1 antr 5. 
 
 Tell me, Sweetheart, can I ever forget thee. 
 Ever regret I have worshipped thee so, 
 
 Ever can cease to rejoice that I met thee. 
 Met thee and loved thee a long time ago ? 
 
 Happy the days that we twain spent together — 
 
 Days unforgotten for ever by me ; 
 Happy in stormy and sunshiny weather 
 
 Simply because they were brightened by thee. 
 
 Darling, without thee the day is so dreary ! 
 
 Dreaming of thee is my only delight ; 
 Sweetheart, without thee the way is so weary — 
 
 Starless as cloudland and sunless as night ! 
 
 Shall I e'er love thee less fondly than now, dear ? 
 
 Tell me if e'er my devotion can die ! — 
 Never until thou shalt cease to be thou, dear, 
 
 Never until I no longer am I. 
 
88 
 
 9[n Autumn ^owq. 
 
 Sweetheart, the Autumn days are dark and dreary, 
 The wind is wildly wailing o'er the wold ; 
 
 The year and I are growing worn and weary, 
 And all the world is desolate and cold. 
 
 It seems not long since thou and I together 
 Made merry with our mirth the sunny day ; 
 
 But thou didst leave me with the Summer weather. 
 And now art far away, so far away ! 
 
 The Spring-time will return with all her treasures. 
 The Summer with her glory and her glow ; 
 
 But can they bring the bygone pleasures ? — 
 I do not know. Sweetheart, I do not know. 
 
 Once more the garden may be bright with posies ; 
 
 But will they be to me as sweet and gay 
 As lilies that are dead, and faded roses ? — 
 
 I dare not say, Sweetheart, I dare not say. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise, 89 
 
 New friends will meet me and will greet me kindly ; 
 
 But shall I learn to love them half so well 
 As thee whom I have loved so long and blindly ? — 
 
 I cannot tell, Sweetheart, I cannot tell. 
 
90 
 
 We pluck a rose that sweetly blows, 
 And when its petals frail are shed, 
 We quickly find another rose 
 Instead. 
 
 We revel in the joys of Spring, 
 
 And when its happy hours have sped. 
 Another year fresh flowers will bring 
 Instead. 
 
 We love a peaceful Summer morn, 
 
 And when its dewy charms have fled, 
 Another rosy day is born 
 
 Instead. 
 
 But were I parted, dear, from thee, 
 
 And down some distant pathway led, 
 No other friend would do for me 
 Instead. 
 
V BUSES, Wise or Otherwise. 91 
 
 No other voice would sound the same — 
 
 No other foot as softly tread — 
 No music thrill another name 
 Instead. 
 
 I need thee, Love, in peace or strife : 
 For till Time's latest page be read, 
 No other smile could light my life 
 Instead. 
 
 And even in that happier place. 
 
 Where pain is past and sorrow dead, 
 I could not love an angel's face 
 Instead. 
 
92 
 
 llohe*s ^orti'om 
 
 " Sweetheart," he cried 
 
 With joyous pride, 
 " New hopes I am come to bring ; 
 
 With sunny hours 
 
 And sweetest flowers 
 To wake all thy world to Spring ! ' 
 
 In accents low 
 
 She answered, " Go, 
 'Mongst others to scatter free 
 
 Thy gayest wiles. 
 
 Thy gladdest smiles — 
 But keep all thy tears for me." 
 
 " Sweetheart," he cried, 
 
 " Away I ride ; 
 And therefore I bid thee take 
 
 A curly tress 
 
 Which thou shalt bless 
 And save as my own keepsake I " 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 93 
 
 In accents low 
 
 She answered, " No ; 
 I take not a gift from thee : 
 
 Let others hold 
 
 Thy curls of gold — 
 But keep the grey hairs for me." 
 
 " Sweetheart/' he cried, 
 
 " The flowing tide 
 Of Fortune allures me on, 
 
 To breast its wave, 
 
 Its storms to brave, 
 Ere youth with its strength is gone ! ' 
 
 She answered low, 
 
 " The tide shall flow 
 And carry thy ships to sea : 
 
 Let others greet 
 
 Thy conquering fleet — 
 But keep all the wrecks for me." 
 
 " Sweetheart," he cried, 
 
 " The world is wide. 
 And morning has just begun ; 
 
 With thee all day 
 
 I'll work and pray, 
 From dawn till the set of sun ! " 
 
94 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 In accents low 
 She answered, " So, 
 
 Dear Love, it can never be : 
 Let others share 
 Thy morning prayer — 
 
 At evensong wait for me." 
 
 " Sweetheart," he cried, 
 
 " If side by side 
 We joyfully speed along, 
 
 Through toil and strife, 
 
 Our psalm of Hfe 
 Shall echo the angels' song ! " 
 
 In accents low 
 
 She said, " I trow. 
 Divinely attuned are we : 
 
 With others raise 
 
 Thy hymns of praise — 
 Thy requiems chant with me." 
 
 " Sweetheart," he cried, 
 
 " With thee for guide 
 I feel that the world is mine ; 
 
 With head and hand 
 
 I'll rule the land, 
 And count all my triumphs thine ! " 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 95 
 
 In accents low 
 
 She said, " I know 
 That I thy success shall see : 
 
 To others' gain 
 
 Give hand and brain — 
 But keep all thy heart for me." 
 
96 
 
 The Summer's story 
 
 Has reached its glory, 
 Fulfilling all the sweet dreams of May ; 
 
 The daylight lingers, 
 
 With rosy fingers 
 Defying night on the longest day. 
 
 Yet I remember 
 
 No dark December 
 When sunbeams seemed less inclined to stay 
 
 Than these which measure 
 
 The hours of pleasure 
 I spend with you on the longest day. 
 
 With you beside me 
 
 To cheer and guide me, 
 I feel — whatever the sages say — 
 
 That evening shadows 
 
 Across the meadows 
 Come all too soon on the longest day. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 97 
 
 If we together 
 
 Face sunny weather, 
 And love each other when skies are grey — 
 
 Life's span shall be, dear, 
 
 To you and me, dear, 
 As short and sweet as the longest day. 
 
 And, dearest, after 
 
 The tears and laughter 
 Are all forgotten and passed away. 
 
 We two for ever. 
 
 Where night falls never, 
 Will spend together the longest day. 
 
98 
 
 Why do I count you so dear (you ask) 
 This old-fashioned jar, which is but the tomb 
 
 Of flowers that once in the sun could bask, 
 
 And now with their fragrance can make my room 
 
 As sweet as the cedar-ceiled halls of Jewry ? 
 
 'Tis only a handful of old pot-pourri. 
 
 Roses once gathered by vanished hands, 
 Cowslips that blossomed in bygone Springs, 
 
 Lilies that flourished in far-off lands, 
 Violets sweet with remembered things 
 
 And dark as the eyes of an Eastern houri — 
 
 All these you will find in my old pot-pourri. 
 
 Doomed in the day of their youth to die, 
 Cruelly soon was their Spring-time done : 
 
 Now triumphantly they can defy 
 
 Whirlwinds of Winter and Summer's sun. 
 
 Time with his changes and Death with his fury 
 
 Steal none of the sweetness from old pot-pourri. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 99 
 
 Roses are blooming as fresh to-day, 
 
 Lilies as fair in my garden grow ; 
 And you wonder which are the sweeter — they 
 
 Or the flowers that withered so long ago ? 
 If me you appoint as your judge and jury 
 I will give the verdict for old pot-pourri. 
 
lOO 
 
 Do I love you ? 
 
 Can I prove you 
 More than all the world to me ? 
 
 So you wonder, 
 
 And I ponder 
 What my true reply must be. 
 
 For of you, dear. 
 There are two, dear : 
 
 One — a thing of common delf ; 
 One — a treasure 
 Past all measure : 
 
 Which — I ask you — is yourself? 
 
 None is nearer. 
 
 Closer, dearer, 
 Than (to me) your better part : 
 
 I will perish 
 
 Ere I cherish 
 Its companion in my heart. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. ioi 
 
 If the delf, love, 
 
 Is yourself, love. 
 And the other fancy-born, 
 
 You have grieved me 
 
 And deceived me 
 Till I loathe you in my scorn. 
 
 If the real 
 
 And ideal 
 Are in truth the very same, 
 
 I adore you, 
 
 Kneel before you. 
 Find life's music in your name. 
 
 If I prize you 
 
 Or despise you, 
 I can never tell you true. 
 
 Till you show, dear. 
 
 And I knoWj dear. 
 Which of these is really you. 
 
102 
 
 ^oio as Cfim. 
 
 Once upon a time (say folk), 
 
 When the roads were in a muddle, 
 
 Walter Raleigh laid his cloak 
 Right across the largest puddle. 
 
 Crying, " Madam, now you dare 
 Rain or mud or dust defy — shod 
 
 With your subject's loving care ! " 
 So the Queen passed over dryshod. 
 
 Though his raiment fine was soiled 
 Raleigh did not mind a feather ; 
 
 For his velvet was well spoiled 
 In defending her shoe-leather. 
 
 Gorgeous mantles decorate 
 
 Now no more the sons of Adam ; 
 
 Puddles do not devastate 
 
 Modern roadways of Macadam. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 103 
 
 But though garments change their name, 
 And though forms and fashions alter, 
 
 Thoughts and feelings are the same 
 As they were to good Sir Walter. 
 
 So, my dearest, I will strain 
 
 All I am and have and swear by, 
 
 For the chance that you may gain 
 Just a moment's pleasure thereby. 
 
 I will spoil my robes of state, 
 
 Sacrifice my silks and laces. 
 If they may but separate 
 
 Your small shoes from miry places ; 
 
 I will strew my best till death 
 On your path across life's valley : 
 
 You — my Queen Elizabeth ! 
 
 I— your faithful Walter Raleigh 1 
 
I04 
 
 91 ^oitfl of Eobfs. 
 
 Through branches of their leaves bereft 
 
 The sunlight glitters golden : 
 The moss with velvet clothes each cleft 
 
 In ruins grim and olden ; 
 On falling towers the ivy strong 
 
 All signs of wreck effaces ; 
 The streamlet sings its sweetest song 
 
 Across the stony places. 
 
 When moonless is the wintry sky 
 
 Then brightest is the starlight ; 
 Beyond the breakers fierce and high 
 
 We see the beacon's far light ; 
 The snowdrop rings its silver bell 
 
 When snowdrifts shroud the meadows ; 
 The winds their sacred secrets tell 
 
 Behind the evening shadows. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. ios 
 
 And so, sweetheart, when thou art old 
 
 And sad and worn and weary, 
 When all the world is growing cold. 
 
 And all the land looks dreary, 
 My heart will follow then the lead 
 
 Of star and moss and river, 
 And love thee best in greatest need 
 
 For ever and for ever. 
 
io6 
 
 In Coltrtsst Ofnglantr* 
 
 In General Booth's great treatise on the gloom 
 Which English people plunge their submerged 
 sinners in, 
 He says the Poor should have a nice warm room 
 To eat their dinners in. 
 
 Oh, that another prophet would appear 
 
 Who — with a duly philanthropic flourish — meant 
 To grant the Wealthy a mild atmosphere 
 For taking nourishment ! 
 
 For at the merry-makings of the Rich 
 
 (As half their martyred visitors can verify) — 
 They are exposed to winds of Heaven, which 
 The strongest terrify. 
 
 Through open windows round the festive board 
 
 Catarrh and Influenza ride victorious, 
 While, louder than at sea he ever roared. 
 Sings rude old Boreas. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 107 
 
 The Poor inclement weather cannot bear 
 
 Because their scanty clothes are worn to filaments ; 
 But, at their revellings, the Wealthy wear 
 As slight habiliments. 
 
 Oh, that a modern prophet might arise. 
 
 Who — having warmed and cared for the Demo- 
 cracy — 
 Would strive to shelter from the stormy skies 
 The Aristocracy : 
 
 Who — like a true-born hero — would not mind 
 
 A fashionable charge of incivility, 
 If only he could come " betwixt the wind 
 And their nobility " ! 
 
io8 
 
 Simons t6e Eosiesf* 
 
 Long ago in Love's old garden, 
 Where no frosts the dew-drops harden 
 
 And the South wind ever blows, 
 Two brave Knights of kingly bearing 
 Set their hearts upon the wearing 
 
 Both of one especial Rose. 
 
 Quoth the first Knight, " Rose of roses. 
 You are Queen of all the posies 
 
 That this garden-plot adorn : 
 I should die of your rejection, 
 For in you I find perfection, 
 
 Lovely Rose without a thorn 1 " 
 
 Quoth the second Knight, " Sweet flower. 
 Let me take you to my bower. 
 
 For I love you, thorns and all : 
 From your briars I would remove you. 
 And would train you and improve you. 
 
 If to me your charms should fall ! " 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 109 
 
 Then the Rose addressed the Second 
 (As the First she hardly reckoned 
 
 Worthy of a wise reply) : 
 " Much, Sir Knight, you have to proffer, 
 And I must regard your offer 
 
 As a compliment most high : 
 
 " I should be — with you beside me 
 To correct and guard and guide me — 
 
 Quite the rarest flower that grows. 
 You shall have the Rose's blessing, 
 All her grateful thanks expressing ; 
 
 And your friend shall have — the Rose." 
 
no 
 
 Oh ! I was so young and he was so old 
 
 When we met in the spring of a bygone year ; 
 
 And he seemed so stately and stern and cold 
 That he filled my soul with a childish fear. 
 
 But I learned to know him so well, so well — 
 Far better than any I'd ever known ; 
 
 So much to me then did he deign to tell 
 That his inmost secrets became my own. 
 
 So I set to work for his only sake, 
 
 And found he was always to me the same : 
 
 I was careless and crude, yet he never spake 
 One word of reproof or of scorn or blame. 
 
 The charms of the world were beneath his ken, 
 And he cared not a tittle for sordid pelf ; 
 
 But he taught me to study my fellow-men. 
 And (which was still better) to know myself. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. hi 
 
 Forsaken he stood by the rushing stream 
 Of life, with its eddies of joy and pain ; 
 
 For his day was done, and he did not dream 
 He could ever be sorry or glad again. 
 
 But to me he opened fresh fields of thought, 
 Regaling my spirit from wisdom's store ; 
 
 Surprising and strange were the truths he taught. 
 Undreamed of, unguessed at, by me before. 
 
 We have parted, but still I am glad we met : 
 He has passed away far out of my reach ; 
 
 But never — no never — can I forget 
 The wonderful lessons he used to teach. 
 
 Never a sigh did he squander on me, 
 
 Nor stoop to take note of my girlish whim ; 
 
 Yet all my life through shall I surely be 
 Wiser and better for meeting with him. 
 
 Much did he teach me — so came it to pass 
 
 Gratefully now I remember it all : 
 / was a girl at an " Ambulance Class " — 
 
 He was a skeleton hung on the wall. 
 
112 
 
 9in (S^it of ^taffortrsijire* 
 
 The invading Danish foe near a thousand years ago 
 
 Travelled hither from the strand : 
 And it fell upon a day that his armies came this way 
 
 To our pleasant Mercian land. 
 
 They had wandered from the coast with their savage 
 pirate host, 
 Leaving ruin in their track ; 
 And all bloodstained was the sod in the footsteps 
 they had trod, 
 And the turf was burnt and black. 
 
 Ethelflaed, the Mercian Queen, brought an army on 
 the scene 
 To defend her native plain ; 
 While King Edward, named the Elder, with his 
 English hosts upheld her 
 In her fight against the Dane. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 113 
 
 On the Danish foemen came, bringing poverty and 
 shame 
 And destruction in their path ; 
 And each honest-hearted Saxon by his beard so fair 
 and flaxen 
 Swore to slay them in his wrath. 
 
 So the Saxons came to meet them and right royally 
 to greet them 
 As they hurried on apace : 
 At Theotenhall they found them with their Swedish 
 hordes around them, 
 And defied them face to face. 
 
 They defied them face to face in that fearful 
 trysting place. 
 And they fought them hand to hand ; 
 While the Saxon Edward quoth, " I have sworn a 
 mighty oath 
 To deliver this my land ! " 
 
 Swift as thought the arrows flashed, sure as death 
 the axes crashed. 
 Straight and sharp the spears were thrust ; 
 As the maddened chargers neighed, and the clashing 
 armies swayed 
 To and fro amid the dust. 
 H 
 
114 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 And the morning sun shone white on the glory of 
 the fight 
 When the battle was begun ; 
 And the evening sun shone red on the faces of 
 the dead 
 When that dreadful day was done. 
 
 For the air was dark with slaughter, and the life-blood 
 ran like water 
 As the Danes were brought to bay ; 
 And they changed that sunlit meadow to a valley of 
 the shadow 
 With the fury of their fray. 
 
 And the fight was grim and great, and the hour was 
 dark and late. 
 Ere the day was won and lost ; 
 But the Saxons gained the battle, and above the 
 deafening rattle 
 Were proclaimed the conquering host. 
 
 They pursued the vanquished Danes o'er the ravaged 
 Mercian plains 
 During forty days and more ; 
 Till the foe was forced to flee to the countries near 
 the sea, 
 And the lands beside the shore. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 115 
 
 And the slain were gently laid in the oak-trees' 
 peaceful shade 
 To their long, unbroken rest : 
 Friend and foe they sleep together, through serene 
 and stormy weather. 
 On the green earth's quiet breast. 
 
 They had sworn with latest breath they would 
 struggle to the death 
 Or their foes should be their slaves : 
 Now they lie with upturned faces, and no curses 
 stir the daisies 
 That are growing on their graves. 
 
 As they slumber they may dream that things are not 
 what they seem 
 On this little earth of ours, 
 For life's problems are made plain to the weary who 
 have lain 
 Fast asleep beneath the flowers. 
 
 And perchance they understand in that silent shadow- 
 land. 
 As they never did before, 
 That renown was but a bubble and success but toil 
 and trouble 
 In the fighting days of yore. 
 
ii6 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 As in manhood's golden day we look back on childish 
 play 
 With a half-disdainful smile, 
 So these wiser spirits wonder that they rent the world 
 asunder, 
 And believed it worth their while. 
 
 Once again it came to pass that the Danes returned, 
 alas ! 
 To the sunny Mercian land ; 
 And their track with blood was red, and their path 
 was strewn with dead. 
 As they journeyed from the strand. 
 
 Then the Saxons met the Danes in the pleasant 
 Mercian plains, 
 And they swore the Danes should yield ; 
 So they smote them hip and thigh till they made 
 them fall or fly 
 At the fight of Wodensfield. 
 
 And the sunlight gleamed like gold on the armour of 
 the bold 
 At the dawning of the day ; 
 And the night-clouds hung like lead o'er the armies 
 of the dead 
 At the ending of the fray. 
 
Vbrses, Wise or Otherwise. 117 
 
 For the Saxons showed no quarter, and the air was 
 dark with slaughter, 
 And the fight was grim and great ; 
 And three Kings to death were done ere the setting 
 of the sun 
 On that fearful field of fate. 
 
 Then the English conquerors hied to Winehalla in 
 the pride 
 Of the victory they had won ; 
 Where they feasted late and long as with revelry and 
 song 
 They proclaimed what they had done. 
 
 All their poets told the story of the hard-won Saxon 
 glory, 
 And the conquest of the foe ; 
 While the weary warriors rested and the sweets of 
 triumph tested, 
 Near a thousand years ago. 
 
 There is little difference now 'twixt the laurel-circled 
 brow 
 And the fallen in the fight : 
 'Tis among the things of old, like the tales that have 
 been told 
 Or the watches of the night. 
 
ii8 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 For the victors from their gladness and the vanquished 
 from their madness 
 Were alike compelled to cease, 
 When Death called them to their reckoning, and, his 
 ghostly finger beckoning. 
 Bade them pass away in peace. 
 
 -They were mighty men and brave, and they earned a 
 soldier's grave, 
 Having nobly served their day ; 
 Yet each servant meek and lowly in the kingdom of 
 the holy 
 Shall be greater far than they : 
 
 For the man that takes a city, undeterred by pain 
 and pity. 
 Like a lion's whelp may be ; 
 But the man that rules his spirit shall be held of 
 higher merit 
 And of truer worth than he. 
 
 Now their rage and hate are over as they lie beneath 
 the clover. 
 And they fret and fume no more : 
 Danish sailors, Saxon sages, in the silence of the 
 ages 
 Never hear the sound of war. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 119 
 
 For their rest is long and sweet, and they feel nor 
 cold nor heat. 
 But are calm and unafraid ; 
 While the daffodilly waves o'er the old, forgotten 
 graves. 
 Where they slumber in the shade. 
 
 There they patiently must lie while the sunny days 
 pass by, 
 And the stars their vigils keep. 
 Till the angel-sounded warning of the Resurrectioti- 
 morning 
 Shall awake them out of sleep. 
 
 Still their spirits haunt the shadows of the oak-trees 
 in the meadows 
 Where their knell the bluebell tolls • 
 And we humbly pray that Heaven, Whereby sinners 
 are forgiven. 
 May have mercy on their souls ! 
 
120 
 
 An angel, of those that excel in strength, 
 
 Looked down from above on the breadth and length 
 
 Of the ways of men, and he heard the cry 
 
 They raise from a world that is all awry : 
 
 " Oh, if we were happy, or rich, or great. 
 
 We would serve God well in our high estate ; 
 
 But blank disappointment and black despair 
 
 Are burdens too heavy for us to bear ! " 
 
 And the angel exclaimed, " It is hard on these 
 
 That they cannot serve God in the way they please ! 
 
 If I straightened their crooked and smoothed their 
 
 rough, 
 The children of men would be righteous enough." 
 Then he prayed, " If I might for this once aspire 
 To give to each creature its heart's desire, 
 That creature would come of its own accord 
 With joy and thanksgiving to serve the Lord ! " 
 His petition was borne up the altar stairs 
 (As is always the way with unselfish prayers), 
 
Vesses, Wise or Otherwise. 121 
 
 And permission was granted to prove the worth, 
 
 Undeveloped as yet in the sons of earth. 
 
 In a hopeful transport the angel flew 
 
 Down the pathless waste of ethereal blue, 
 
 Till he stood by the side of a toil-worn boy. 
 
 Whose soul was an-hungered for human joy. 
 
 " If only his heart could be gay and glad," 
 
 Quoth the seraph, "it all would be well with the 
 
 lad; 
 But the iron footsteps of want and woe 
 Have trampled upon him and crushed him so 
 That the visions perceived by his inward sight 
 Are doomed to be dead ere they come to the light." 
 So the messenger opened the tear-filled eyes 
 To the beauty of life ; and in sweet surprise 
 The poet gave voice to his fondest dreams. 
 And chanted his paeans by Babylon's streams. 
 And he piped and sang with such wonderful grace 
 To the children who played in the market-place. 
 That their hearts grew tender, their eyes grew dim. 
 And the whole of the world went after him. 
 But the poet's soul was so finely made 
 That it languished in sunshine and longed for shade : 
 In the pitiless glare of the garish day 
 It shrank and shrivelled and faded away. 
 So the poet bartered his soul for fame, 
 And the round earth rang with the sound of his name; 
 But he learnt too late, when he counted the cost, 
 That the world was gained and his soul was lost. 
 
122 Verses, Wise ok Otherwise. 
 
 Then the angel noticed a starving man 
 
 Who pondered and prayed o'er a perfect plan 
 
 For helping his fellows, but always failed 
 
 Because of the outlay his schemes entailed. 
 
 And the angel cried, " It is sad indeed 
 
 His designs should be stopped by the stress of his 
 
 need ! 
 With wealth to help him and patience to wait. 
 This man and his money might conquer Fate." 
 Then the man, who had once been a failure, rose 
 To heights unimagined by friends or foes. 
 And waited and worked with his might and main, 
 Till he garnered a harvest of golden grain. 
 And the seraph smiled, " He will quickly fulfil 
 His hopes of assuaging all human ill ; 
 And will make, by the means he can now employ. 
 The widow and orphan to sing for joy." 
 But the man, who had grown what the world calls rich. 
 Despised the old days when he lay in the ditch 
 Devising a plan for the good of his kind : 
 Such follies were left with his rags behind. 
 So he hoarded his money, and quite forgot 
 The dreams that he dreamed when he had it not. 
 A pauper, he argued, perchance might love 
 To lay up for pastime a treasure above ; 
 But the wealthy had plenty to do, for sure, 
 Without wasting their substance on God and the poor. 
 Then the angel took heed to a woman's cry ; 
 " Give me love in my life, or, alas ! I die : 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 123 
 
 For in spite of my beauty and rank and wit, 
 I grow selfish and hard for the lack of it." 
 So the seraph put into her hands a heart 
 Wherein none other woman had lot or part — 
 The heart of a man to be all her own, 
 To melt into softness or freeze into stone. 
 And the woman — being given a thing to use, 
 The anguish whereof had the power to amuse — 
 Began pricking^her plaything and probing its pain, 
 Till it broke in her clutch beyond mending again. 
 Then she wondered whatever the harm could be. 
 Or who had the right to reprove her, if she 
 Into dust and destruction disdainfully trod 
 The heart of a man in the image of God. 
 But she sorrowed a season (as women will 
 When their empty existence seems hard to fill). 
 And prayed to be given, for pity's sake, 
 A similar beautiful toy to break ; 
 For the days were long and the hours like lead 
 Without something to play with, the woman said. 
 The angel of light, who excelled in strength. 
 Looked down in dismay on the breadth and length 
 Of the ways of men ; and he sadly sighed, 
 " A failure indeed was the course I tried ! 
 Not glorious summers nor cloudless morns 
 Can grow figs on thistles or grapes on thorns : 
 'Tis not talents withheld from his lifetime's plan 
 But the thoughts of his heart that defile a man. 
 The mean and the selfish would prove the same 
 
124 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Under blessing or ban ; but they lay the blame 
 
 On their lowly position or lack of parts, 
 
 And not where 'tis due, on the sin of their hearts." 
 
 Then he wept as he whispered, " If this be so, 
 
 And the heart of the citadel hold the foe — 
 
 If the cleanness of cup and of platter hide 
 
 The loathsome corruption that lurks inside — 
 
 If the roots of the tree are but rottenness — then 
 
 What help can be found for the children of men ? " 
 
 And from out of the silence an answer came, 
 
 " All things can be done through the might of My 
 
 Name! 
 The hills shall be moved, and the seas made dry, 
 And the camel shall pass through the needle's eye ; 
 For the plans untried and the paths untrod 
 By saints and by angels are known to God." 
 
125 
 
 "(golU anlr ffmnkmemt anti ilprrij/* 
 
 One Christmas-day in long-forgotten years 
 
 A beggar wept exceeding bitter tears ; 
 
 For, whilst the thronging people went their way 
 
 To God's own house to keep His holy day, 
 
 To deck with offerings meet the Saviour's shrine, 
 
 And praise with carols sweet the Babe divine. 
 
 So poor was he, he could not e'en afford 
 
 The humblest gift wherewith to greet his Lord. 
 
 As, sad at heart, the weary beggar wept, 
 
 It chanced he fell asleep, and whilst he slept 
 
 He dreamed there passed before his tear-dimmed 
 
 eyes 
 Three men in strange and Oriental guise. 
 Who — guided by a bright and wondrous star — 
 Had left their Eastern home and travelled far, 
 And still were pressing onwards night and day 
 To reach the manger where the Saviour lay. 
 
126 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 The first — a stately man of noble mien, 
 With wise and thoughtful eye and brow serene — 
 Addressed the sleeper thus : " Pure gold I bring 
 To sacrifice before the new-born King." 
 Then spake the second, who was young and fair : 
 " A costly gift of frankincense I bear, 
 Distilled from all the sweetest things on earth. 
 And therefore meet to grace a Monarch's birth." 
 
 The third — a weary traveller, worn and old — 
 Sighed : " I have neither frankincense nor gold ; 
 To me life brings the bitter, not the sweet. 
 And poor indeed I go my King to meet ; 
 I ne'er have found pure gold without alloy, 
 Nor yet the frankincense of love and joy ; 
 Still all I have I give Him, and believe 
 That e'en the bitter myrrh He will receive." 
 
 An angel's voice made answer : " Blest are they 
 
 Who dedicate their gold to God, and pray 
 
 That He thereof will fashion crowns of light 
 
 To wreathe their brows who well have fought the 
 
 Twice blest are they who bring the costly spice 
 Of life's most precious gifts as sacrifice ; 
 For all such incense burnt before the Lord 
 One day a thousandfold shall be restored. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 127 
 
 Thrice blest are they who — having nought at all 
 To offer save the wormwood and the gall — 
 Lay down their sorrows at their Saviour's feet j 
 For He shall change their bitter into sweet. 
 His loving hand shall wipe away their tears, 
 His gracious smile dispel their doubts and fears ; 
 Eternal joy shall turn their night to day, 
 Whilst grief and sighing swiftly flee away." 
 
 The beggar wept for joy : " Ah ! now I learn," 
 He cried, " that even I may come in turn 
 To lay my gift before the new-born King, 
 Whose praises all the host of Heaven sing. 
 Some give Him costly gold, and some prefer 
 Sweet frankincense — I nought can bring but myrrh ; 
 Yet God my offering will not worthless deem." 
 The beggar woke — and lo ! it was a dream. 
 
128 
 
 One Christmas — as over the snow-drifts deep the 
 
 silvery starlight streamed — 
 A poor old shepherd was lying asleep, and this is the 
 
 dream he dreamed ; 
 He thought that he heard the angel of old that 
 
 glorious carol sing — 
 " Fear not ; for behold ! there is born this day a Babe 
 
 Which is Christ the King." 
 
 So he started to seek the new-born Christ, on hearing 
 
 the angel's song, 
 And never fainted nor faltered nor failed, though 
 
 weary the way and long ; 
 Till he came to a beautiful city, so wondrously fair to 
 
 see. 
 That " Here," cried the shepherd in joyful hope, " the 
 
 Heavenly Babe must be ! " 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 129 
 
 Then he tried to pass through the gates of brass, but 
 
 there was his progress barred, 
 For in front of the closely-shut portals the sentinels 
 
 stood on guard : 
 " Go home, thou shepherd, go home," they cried ; " of 
 
 a truth, thou canst surely see 
 Here is room for the proud and princely, but here is 
 
 no place for thee ! " 
 
 Then it came to pass that the wayworn man a palace 
 
 of learning found, 
 Where walls of marble and pillars of gold rose up from 
 
 the mossy ground 
 To shield from the great world's struggle and strife 
 
 the gifted, the learned, the wise ; 
 And the shepherd exclaimed, " 'Tis here, methinks, 
 
 that the wonderful Christ-Child lies ! " 
 
 But never a word of welcome kind did the scholarly 
 
 scorners deign 
 To give to the weary old wanderer, ere they turned to 
 
 their books again : 
 " Go home, thou shepherd, go home," they said ; " from 
 
 our presence make haste to flee ; 
 Here is room for the wise and the worthy, but here is 
 
 no place for thee ! " 
 I 
 
130 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 The shepherd sadly pursued his way till he came to a 
 temple fair, 
 
 Where priests in their vesture of purple hue were lift- 
 ing their hearts in prayer — 
 
 Where choirs in their garments of snowy white were 
 raising their songs in praise : 
 
 " Ah, here is the spot," was the traveller's cry, " where 
 I on my Lord may gaze." 
 
 But he dare not enter that sacred fane, so gaunt did 
 
 he feel and grim. 
 And the beautiful white-robed choristers had never a 
 
 song for him ; 
 He sighed to himself, " In this temple fair, O shepherd, 
 
 thou mayst not be — 
 Here is room for the pure and the perfect, but here is 
 
 no place for thee ! " 
 
 Then on he went till at last he felt he could travel 
 
 along no more ; 
 And feeble and footsore and faint at heart he entered 
 
 a stable door ; 
 Though the great and the good and the gifted would 
 
 scorn such a humble guest, 
 Yet there with the beasts of burden, perchance, the 
 
 shepherd might take his rest. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 131 
 
 And lo ! where the vilest might freely come, and no 
 man durst say them nay, 
 
 In the stable, asleep in a manger, the glorious Christ- 
 Child lay ; 
 
 "O welcome, thou shepherd," the angels sang ; "fall 
 low on thy bended knee — 
 
 Here is room for the sad and the sinful, so here is 
 the place for thee ! " 
 
132 
 
 Cfte Hermit. 
 
 Safe in the shelter of a lonely glen — 
 A refuge which the distant hum of men 
 
 Could reach but faintly — 
 Untouched by human blame or human praise, 
 There dwelt in ancient, half-forgotten days 
 
 A hermit saintly. 
 
 With rapture was his spirit wont to burn ; 
 Each night of prayer was followed in its turn 
 
 By prayerful morrows ; 
 He heeded not in his exalted life 
 The sordid cares of men, their paltry strife, 
 
 Their sins and sorrows. 
 
 As he one Christmas Eve his vigil kept, 
 Whilst Nature 'neath her snowy mantle slept. 
 
 He saw with wonder 
 An angel standing smiling by his side. 
 Whilst Heaven to hosts seraphic opened wide 
 
 Its gates of thunder. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 133 
 
 In silent awe the hermit bowed his head : 
 " Fear not, my son," the angel sweetly said 
 
 In accents ringing ; 
 " Our Christmas carol strive to learn by heart, 
 And see if thou art fit to take thy part 
 
 In Heaven's singing." 
 
 " Glory to God ! " bright hosts of seraphs sang ; 
 " Glory to God ! " the highest Heavens rang ; 
 
 " To God be glory ! " 
 " O angel ! " cried the hermit, growing bold, 
 " This can I sing, for all my life has told 
 
 The self-same story." 
 
 The angel smiled : " And art thou then as fain 
 To sing the second part of Heaven's strain .' " 
 
 In tones sonorous 
 The white-robed carol-singers chanted then, 
 " Peace upon earth, and goodwill unto men ! " 
 
 So ran the chorus. 
 
 In tearful shame the hermit bowed his head : 
 " I cannot learn the angels' song," he said, 
 
 " Nor sing it duly ; 
 To God great glory I have ever given ; 
 But yet to save men's souls I have not striven, 
 
 Nor loved them truly." 
 
134 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 The angel answered gently, " Grieve not so ! 
 Two things compose man's duty here below — 
 
 Thou hast the one done ; 
 In this thou hast not been of grace bereft, 
 Yet none the less thou shouldst not then have left 
 
 The other undone. 
 
 " Be comforted ! it is not yet too late ; 
 
 Ne'er closed to those who knock is Heaven's gate. 
 
 Now do thy duty — 
 Love well thy fellow-creatures, and ere long 
 Thine own shall be the sweet seraphic song 
 
 In all its beauty." 
 
 The hermit straightway left his lonely glen. 
 And lived and worked amongst his fellow-men 
 
 As holy leaven ! 
 At last — the carol learnt — he ceased to roam, 
 And then the angels bore him safely home 
 
 To sing in Heaven. 
 
I3S 
 
 %o$& nnti 6am» 
 
 I SORROWED that the golden day was dead, 
 
 Its light no more the country side adorning ; 
 But whilst I grieved, behold ! — the East grew red 
 With morning. 
 
 I sighed that merry Spring was forced to go, 
 
 And doff the wreaths that did so well become 
 her; 
 But whilst I murmured at her absence, lo ! — 
 'Twas Summer. 
 
 I mourned because the daffodils were killed 
 
 By burning skies that scorched my early posies ; 
 But whilst for these I pined, my hands were filled 
 With roses. 
 
 Half broken-hearted I bewailed the end 
 Of friendships than which none had once seemed 
 nearer ; 
 But whilst I wept I found a newer friend, 
 And dearer. 
 
136 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 And thus I learned old pleasures are estranged 
 
 Only that something better may be given ; 
 Until at last we find this earth exchanged 
 For Heaven. 
 
137 
 
 One sunny day, as on my way I went, 
 
 And stooped to pluck the flowers I loved so well, 
 I saw that on each bloom o'er which I bent, 
 
 My shadow fell ; 
 But when my wandering glances left the ground 
 And travelled sunwards up the shafts of light, 
 The shadow fell behind me, and I found 
 That all was bright. 
 
 So when, with earthward gaze, we set our minds 
 On flowers beside life's pathway blooming fair, 
 Whoever stoops to seize their beauties finds 
 
 A shadow there ; 
 But if, with eyes uplifted, we are wont 
 
 To scan the heavenward stair the angels trod, 
 Behind us is the shadow, and in front 
 The light of God. 
 
138 
 
 The branch by wind is stirred, 
 And yet thereon the bird 
 
 His carol sings ; 
 What though the tree be tall ? — 
 He feels he cannot fall 
 
 For he has wings. 
 
 I find no place of rest ; 
 Yet I am not opprest 
 
 By earthly things ; 
 Nought is abiding here, 
 But wherefore should I fear ? — 
 
 I too have wings. 
 
139 
 
 To know through all Earth's changes that Life must 
 conquer Death — 
 
 Which is perfect Faith : 
 To trust that we are gaining those joys for which we 
 grope— 
 
 Which is steadfast Hope : 
 To love our fellow creatures as we beloved would 
 be— 
 
 Which is Charity : 
 To have these three abiding our daily lives to bless — 
 Which is Happiness. 
 
140 
 
 purple anir (Bol'a, 
 
 The golden corn and the purple heather 
 
 In royal state did the land enfold ; 
 And the children laughed in the sunny weather, 
 
 And clapped their hands at the purple and gold. 
 
 One short month passed, and brought with it the 
 sadness 
 Of Autumn winds and of Autumn rain, 
 And though still the children laughed in their glad- 
 ness, 
 They looked for the purple and gold in vain, 
 
 I wondered whether their hearts were tender 
 And sad that such beauty had passed away. 
 
 So I asked them what had become of the splendour 
 That crowned the country the other day. 
 
 They smiled at my ignorance all unaided, 
 And told me a secret I ought to know — 
 
 How the purple and gold were not lost nor faded, 
 But every year were obliged to go. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 141 
 
 For the purple and gold of the Summers olden 
 
 Were used to build, as the angels list, 
 A city on high, where the streets are golden, 
 
 And the walls are glowing with amethyst. 
 
 As I heard the children's quaint little story, 
 Methought that it brought a message to all, 
 
 For we all are sighing for faded glory, 
 And longing for pleasures beyond recall. 
 
 But the children should teach us to cease our sighing, 
 And let our lives with fresh hopes be crowned ; 
 
 There are no such things as losing and dying, 
 For the dead are alive, and the lost are found. 
 
 The joys that we mourn in such deep dejection 
 
 Were carried away by an angel hand. 
 To make more fair in their full perfection. 
 
 Our mansions prepared in the far-off land. 
 
 We shall find them again, all those treasures olden — 
 Not one shall be wanting, not one be missed — 
 
 In a city on high, where the streets are golden. 
 And the walls are glowing with amethyst. 
 
142 
 
 The trailing ivy on the earth is found, 
 
 And closely to its humble home it clings, 
 Nor by itself can ever leave the ground 
 
 From whence it springs. 
 
 Its feeble efforts are all vainly made 
 
 From earth and earth's to set its tendrils free, 
 Until it finds a home beneath the shade 
 Of some great tree. 
 
 The ivy's branches round the trunk are thrown — 
 
 And then at last its lower life is o'er ; 
 'Tis upwards raised to better things, unknown. 
 Undreamed before. 
 
 The old earth-loving days are gone and past — 
 
 A new and higher life is now begun ; 
 The trailing ivy wends its way at last 
 
 Towards stars and sun. 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 143 
 
 So we to earth must cling until we find 
 
 Our rest beneath the shadow of that Tree 
 Which once was lifted up for all mankind 
 On Calvary. 
 
 We fling our arms around it, and at length 
 
 Among the sons of Heaven take our place, 
 And by the Cross are raised from strength to strength 
 From grace to grace. 
 
 It leads us upwards, far beyond the sway 
 
 Of earthly cares, beyond the toil and strife ; 
 In it we find a new and living Way — 
 The Tree of Life. 
 
 It lifts us out of darkness into light — 
 
 The light that shines, undimmed by cloud or mist, 
 In that Eternal City, gleaming bright 
 As amethyst. 
 
 Where conquering hosts beside the Crystal Sea 
 
 With swelling songs their victories recall. 
 And He, Who died for us upon the Tree, 
 Is all in all. 
 
144 
 
 The weaver weaves with many a colour, 
 
 And some are dark and some are gay ; 
 But while the seamy side grows duller 
 
 The pattern brightens day by day. 
 We learn, as we perceive him taking 
 
 The different threads diversely dyed, 
 Designs the darkest in the making 
 
 Are brightest on the other side. 
 
 The web of life with threads is furnished 
 
 Which trace a picture in the loom ; 
 And some like gold are brightly burnished, 
 
 And some are deeply tinged with gloom. 
 Through chance and change we pass believing 
 
 That, whatsoever ills betide. 
 The pattern darkest in the weaving 
 
 Is brightest on the Other Side. 
 
145 
 
 Darling, my daytime has ended its story, 
 
 Shadows of evening fall dark on my brow ; 
 Bright was the flush of its morningtide glory, 
 
 Sweet is the peace that is closing it now. 
 Still the lark's hymn to the sunrise thou hearest. 
 
 Still thou canst brush the fresh dew from the lawn : 
 Which dost thou think is the happier, dearest, 
 
 I in the sunset or thou in the dawn ? 
 
 Darling, I look for a fairer to-morrow. 
 
 So do not pity but bid me good-night : 
 Thou hast to walk through the valley of sorrow, 
 
 I have to soar to the City of Light. 
 When thou art drinking the cup that thou fearest, 
 
 When I have seen the dark curtain withdrawn, 
 Which dost thou think will be happier, dearest. 
 
 Thou in the sunset or I in the dawn ? 
 
146 
 
 When the world to thee is new, 
 
 When its dazzling dreams deceive thee, 
 Ere they pass like morning dew — 
 Faith retrieve thee ! 
 
 When the glory fades away, 
 
 When of light the clouds bereave thee. 
 When the shadows mar the day — 
 Hope relieve thee ! 
 
 When despair's destroying breath 
 
 Comes at eventide to grieve thee 
 With the bitterness of death — 
 Love reprieve thee ! 
 
 When the bells at Curfew toll, 
 
 When the lingering sunbeams leave thee, 
 When the night o'erwhelms thy soul — 
 God receive thee ! 
 
147 
 
 pictures: anb Sautters!* 
 
 A PAINTER, standing on a scaffold high, 
 
 Stepped back to wonder how a passing stranger 
 Would scan his art : a workman, who stood by 
 And saw his danger, 
 
 Bedaubed the finished fresco. With a start 
 
 The artist forward rushed in consternation ; 
 And thus the spoiling of his work of art 
 Was his salvation. 
 
 Oh ! ye, who pleasant pictures love to paint — 
 
 Then find your day-dreams doomed to disappoint- 
 ment — 
 Take for the soothing of your sad complaint 
 This healing ointment : 
 
 That Love withholds the triumph of your toils. 
 Bids Fancy's frescoes fainter fade and fainter, 
 And with a gracious Hand the picture spoils 
 To save the painter. 
 
148 
 
 Now the year is crowned with blessing 
 
 As we gather in the grain ; 
 And, our grateful thanks expressing, 
 
 Loud we raise a joyous strain : 
 Bygone days of toil and sadness 
 Cannot now our peace destroy. 
 For the hills are clothed with gladness, 
 And the valleys shout for joy. 
 
 To the Lord their first-fruits bringing, 
 
 All His thankful people come, 
 To the Father praises singing 
 For the joy of Harvest-Home. 
 
 In the Spring the smiling meadows 
 Donned their robes of living green, 
 
 As the sunshine chased the shadows 
 Swiftly o'er the changing scene ; 
 
Verses, Wise or Qtherwise. 149 
 
 In the Summer-time the story 
 
 Of a riper hope was told ; 
 Then the rich Autumnal glory 
 Decked the fields in cloth of gold. 
 
 To the Lord their first-fruits bringing, 
 
 All His faithful people come, 
 To the Father praises singing 
 For the joy of Harvest-Home. 
 
 Shall not we, whose hearts are swelling 
 
 With the thought of former days, 
 Sing a joyous song foretelling 
 
 Future gladness, fuller praise ? 
 For the cloud the bow retaineth 
 
 With its covenant of peace. 
 That, as long as earth remaineth, 
 Harvest-time shall never cease. 
 
 To the Lord their first-fruits bringing, 
 
 All His faithful people come. 
 To the Father praises singing 
 For the joy of Harvest-Home. 
 
 Though the fig-tree may not flourish, 
 Though the vine no fruit may yield, 
 
 Though the earth no flocks may nourish 
 In the fold or in the field, 
 
ISO Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 Still our hearts will trust His Power 
 
 Who the ravens stoops to feed, 
 And the Hand that clothes each flower 
 Shall supply our utmost need. 
 
 To the Lord their first-fruits bringing, 
 
 All His faithful people come, 
 To the Father praises singing 
 For the joys of Harvest- Home. 
 
iSi 
 
 Father everliving, 
 
 We declared Thy Name 
 When, with glad thanksgiving, 
 
 To Thy courts we came ; 
 For Thy gifts to mortals 
 
 Still our songs we raise, 
 As we pass Thy portals 
 With a hymn of praise ! 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 And, with one accord, 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
 For our own creation 
 
 By Thy mighty Will ; 
 For our preservation 
 
 From surrounding ill ; 
 
152 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 For Thy Word, expressing 
 
 Peace amid the strife ; 
 And for every blessing 
 Of our earthly life — 
 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 
 And, with one accord, 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
 For the dewy meadows, 
 In their glory drest ; 
 For the evening shadows. 
 
 Bringing thoughts of rest ; 
 For this world of beauty ; 
 For the days of youth ; 
 For the path of duty, 
 And the way of truth — 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 
 And, with one accord, 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
 For the faith which brightens 
 Darkness of despair ; 
 
 For the hope which lightens 
 Burdens hard to bear ; 
 
Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 153 
 
 For the love which fails not, 
 
 Nor can fade away ; 
 For the light which pales not 
 Till the perfect day — 
 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 
 And, with one accord, 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
 For the wondrous story 
 Of the blessed Cross ; 
 For the hope of glory 
 
 After grief and loss ; 
 For the One Oblation 
 
 Of Thine Only Son ; 
 For the world's salvation 
 Which by death He won — 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 
 And, with one accord. 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
 For each faithful servant, 
 Who — while tarrying here — 
 
 With pure heart and fervent 
 Served the Lord in fear ; 
 
154 Verses, Wise or Otherwise. 
 
 For the hosts victorious 
 
 Who have fought the fight — 
 Who, serene and glorious, 
 Walk with Christ in white — 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 And, with one accord, 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
 These, Thy mercies tender. 
 
 Teach us. Lord, to see, 
 That we may surrender 
 
 Lips and lives to Thee ; 
 To Thy service giving 
 
 All that we are worth — 
 To Thy glory living 
 All our days on earth. 
 
 Father, we adore Thee, 
 
 And, with one accord, 
 Praise Thy Name before Thee 
 In Thy Temple, Lord ! 
 
SONNETS. 
 
157 
 
 SONNETS, 
 
 Outside thy heart there is a garden plot 
 
 Where thunders never blare nor tempests blow — 
 
 Where I may wander idly to and fro, 
 Secure and sheltered in that stormless spot. 
 Within thy heart are battles fierce and hot, 
 
 And founts of bitterness and floods of woe ; 
 
 But there thou sternly bidst me ne'er to go, 
 Nor give a thought to griefs that touch me not. 
 Whilst I .' I loathe my pleasant, peaceful place ; 
 
 And vainly strive the iron gates to burst. 
 
 Which screen from me thy secret strifes and scars ; 
 Chilled by the coldness of thy courtly grace, 
 
 Shut out alike from both thy best and worst, 
 I break my bleeding heart against the bars. 
 
158 
 
 Thou sittest in my spirit's banquet-hall 
 
 And takest freely of my corn and wine ; 
 
 For pleasant ways and paths of peace are thine, 
 While joy and gladness follow at thy call. 
 Thou dost not penetrate my prison wall, 
 
 Where hopes condemned to death in darkness pine ; 
 
 Nor dost thou bow before mine inmost shrine, 
 Which sanctifies the wormwood and the gall. 
 Thou hast no fellowship with them that mourn ; 
 
 So thou wilt leave it to some stranger-hand 
 
 To sound my depths and scale my heights with 
 me: 
 And some day, in the comfort which is born 
 
 Of souls that throughly know and understand, 
 I shall forget thy thoughtless ways — and thee. 
 
159 
 
 One day it happened that I opened wide 
 The gate which guards the inmost heart of me ; 
 And showed my spirit's treasure-house to thee, 
 
 And prayed thee in its precincts to abide. 
 
 Whereto thy much-encumbered soul replied, 
 " Until a more convenient time let be ! " 
 Then shut the portal somewhat hastily : 
 
 Thou hadst so many things to do beside. 
 
 But leisure seasons find thee free to fling 
 Thy cares aside, and lazily demand 
 
 An easy entrance through the long-locked door. 
 
 Fool, not to know it opened with a spring, 
 Which snapt and broke beneath thy clumsy hand ; 
 And now, alas ! is closed for evermore ! 
 
i6o 
 
 Since I have found some favour in thine eyes, 
 It matters nothing what the others say : 
 If thou art pleased to praise me, who are they 
 
 That should presume to flatter or despise ? 
 
 As some proud monarch dons a plain disguise 
 To hide the princely state of his array, 
 Then scorns the scorn he meets upon his way, 
 
 Full conscious of the rank that underlies ; 
 
 So I go forward with a fine disdain 
 Among my fellows, taking little heed 
 
 Of what their comments on my life may be : 
 
 Apart from these I hold my right to reign. 
 And count myself a very queen indeed, 
 Because I know thou thinkest well of me. 
 
i6i 
 
 Dost thou know, Dearest, that the Summer sun 
 When thou art gone is robbed of half its gold. 
 While Spring becomes a tale too often told. 
 
 And Youth a cheerless game for only one ? 
 
 Yet when life's Winter-solstice has begun 
 I shall not quail before its frost and cold, 
 Nor tremble at the thought of growing old, 
 
 If thou art near me ere my day is done. 
 
 And even in that better, brighter place. 
 Where angels in triumphant chorus sing 
 Ascending the eternal Altar-stairs, 
 
 My soul will seek thee through the fields of space, 
 Nor deem the seraphs' song a perfect thing 
 Until I hear thy voice attuned to theirs. 
 
 K 
 
1 62 
 
 I LOOKED at life with all-unseeing eyes, 
 
 Unable to discern the deeper thing 
 
 Or dive below the surface to the spring, 
 Until thou earnest as a glad surprise. 
 And now to me the smallest bird that flies 
 
 Twitters a song which seraphim might sing ; 
 
 While roadside flowers a sacred message bring, 
 And teach those truths that make the angels wise. 
 I cannot tell thee how thy passing touch 
 
 Had power the underlying thought to show 
 Till all the world was changed because of thee : 
 Nor do I care to measure overmuch 
 
 The why and wherefore : this one thing I know. 
 That I, who once was blind, now clearly see. 
 
i63 
 
 I DREAMED I stood before a fast-locked door, 
 Which nought could open save a magic word ; 
 Yet I demanded entrance undeterred, 
 
 As he who murmured Sesame of yore. 
 
 The grim-eyed porter cried, " Nor less nor more 
 Than one word only, whence may be inferred 
 The sweetest music ear hath ever heard — 
 
 The richest blessing life may have in store : 
 
 One word wherein lies hidden all the bliss 
 Thou canst conceive or crave beneath the sun. 
 Dearer than wealth and fairer far than fame. 
 
 Fool, wilt thou find one word expressing this ? " 
 Whereat I smiling said, " The thing is done ! " 
 Then softly whispered in his ear — thy name. 
 
164 
 
 I CARVED thy name, my friend, upon a tree — 
 An old oak tree o'ershadowing us twain. 
 As we were wandering down a grassy lane 
 
 One day when thou wert all the world to me. 
 
 And now once more the ancient oak I see ; 
 But when I seek the carven sign again 
 I only find a scar against the grain 
 
 Where that dear word of old was wont to be. 
 
 So on my heart I carved thy name of yore, 
 Before I learned how false thy friendships are, 
 Or dreamed that thou wert less sincere than I 
 
 Now on my heart I find thy name no more, 
 But where 'twas wont to be a cruel scar — 
 A scar that I shall carry till I die.: 
 
i65 
 
 (Bn a picture of tf)t 6ranti Canal, TcTeniw. 
 
 The joy of a Venetian holiday- 
 Glows on the canvas like a gleam of Spring : 
 Each princely palace seems a perfect thing 
 
 Enshrining only what is glad and gay. 
 
 'Tis Venice in her festival array ; 
 And nothing in the picture serves to bring 
 Suggestions of the shade her prisons fling 
 
 Where ducal halls to dungeons pave the way. 
 
 So, likewise, would I let no prying eyes 
 Pierce my heart's palaces of ivory. 
 And on the secrets of its prison gaze. 
 
 The haunting shadows of its Bridge of Sighs 
 Are best forgotten : therefore think of me 
 As I appear on happy holidays. 
 
1 66 
 
 **2!2abett tf)t WiovUi toasi ©oung.** 
 
 {On a picture by Sir Edward Poynter, P.R.A.) 
 
 Two girls in robes of amethystine hue 
 
 Play on the pavement with the knuckle-bones ; 
 A third sleeps sweetly on the carven stones 
 Against the mountains' everlasting blue : 
 A bath as clear and cool as morning dew 
 The faintly tinted marble softly tones. 
 Youth, Dawn, and Spring were seated on their 
 thrones 
 And reigned triumphant when the world was new. 
 Our jaded eyes are rested by the peace 
 
 Which fills the court ; and, envying, gaze across 
 The shadow that the centuries have flung, 
 At that fair time ere gladness had to cease 
 
 To make more room for pain and toil and loss — 
 That happy morning when the world was 
 young. 
 
167 
 
 I SAID, " My pathway through a garden lies, 
 Where pleasant fruits abound and spices rare ; 
 Where pilgrims feed among the lilies fair, 
 And palm-trees flourish under sunny skies." 
 I sighed, " A desert spreads before mine eyes — 
 A land of desolation and despair, 
 Where deadly dragons darken all the air 
 With shadows of the doom that never dies." 
 And lo ! the garden, that so perfect seemed, 
 Proved but a painted paradise of fools 
 
 Where foulest worm in fairest fruit was found : 
 The desert, that so dreadful I had deemed, 
 
 Bloomed like a Summer rose ; rain filled the pools, 
 And water-springs refreshed the thirsty ground. 
 
1 68 
 
 I DREAMED I dwelt with gaiety and glee 
 
 In airy castles fashioned for delight ; 
 
 Where song and beauty charmed my sense and sight 
 And love pourtrayed how perfect life could be. 
 I dreamed I drifted on a shoreless sea 
 
 Beneath the shadows of a starless night, 
 
 To watery wastes where waves displayed their might, 
 And yawning whirlpools gaped their mouths on me. 
 But when the daylight dawned it mattered not 
 
 If gates of ivory or gates of horn 
 
 Had made me sad or merry whilst I slept : 
 So when Life's present dream is all forgot 
 
 And we have wakened to a fairer morn, 
 'Twill matter little if we laughed or wept. 
 
i6g 
 
 (Bn tf)t Movt, 
 
 A BROKEN boat is lying on the shore, 
 
 The butt of breakers in their ebb and flow, 
 TeUing meanwhile a bitter tale of woe 
 
 Of those whose travels are for ever o'er. 
 
 We know but little of the freight she bore ; 
 But from her fashion and her form we know 
 She came from Norway many moons ago. 
 
 But shall return to Norway nevermore. 
 
 Ye hardy Norsemen, who were lost at sea 
 
 When sailing towards East Anglia, none can tell 
 The wherefore of your voyage to our strand, 
 
 And what to you its promised end might be : 
 Yet who shall dare deny it ended well ? 
 Ye found not Angle-land, but Aitgel-land. 
 
170 
 
 '' Preserve me from the commonplace ! " I cried, 
 " Nor let me walk the vulgar people's way : 
 
 I long to tread a loftier path than they 
 Who eat and drink, and think of naught beside.'' 
 I climbed to heights which far ahead I spied. 
 Nor would upon the sordid level stay : 
 I scorned the valley where the shadows lay, 
 And sought the peaks by sunlight glorified. 
 But looking back upon the road I trod, 
 I find it wound among the lives of men 
 Who called to me for succour, but in vain. 
 And now, before I see the Face of God, 
 I fain would help whom I neglected then : 
 But I can never pass that way again. 
 
171 
 
 A FRIEND have I of beauty great and rare ; 
 If good or wise she be I do not know, 
 And yet for her my heart is all aglow — 
 
 I love her well because her face is fair. 
 
 Another friend have I my joys to share ; 
 I know not if her face be fair or no — 
 I love her face because I love her so, 
 
 And feel her virtues are beyond compare. 
 
 And which, methinks, is dearer of the two .■' 
 Because the first is passing fair to see 
 I'd swear all virtues follow in her train ; 
 
 Because the second is so good and true 
 Her face is wondrous beautiful to me : 
 I know not which is dearer of the twain. 
 
172 
 
 What wonders Sunshine works upon the world ! 
 
 It turns the hillside to an emerald throne, 
 
 The sullen ocean to a sapphire stone, 
 The clouds to crimson bannerets unfurled : 
 Beneath its spell the meadows are be-pearled 
 
 With dewdrops bright in glory not their own ; 
 
 The land is girded with a golden zone ; 
 The rose's dainty petals are uncurled. 
 When Sunshine doth such wondrous beauty bring 
 
 As makes our worn old world awhile to glow 
 With brightness borrowed from the realms above. 
 It typifies to us that higher thing 
 
 Which makes this earth a very heaven below. 
 The Sunshine of the soul — we call it Love. 
 
173 
 
 Night comes with silent steps across the plain, 
 In all the gloom of sable garments drest : 
 Legions of dreams obey her least behest. 
 
 And clouds and darkness follow in her train. 
 
 Whilst constellations chant their stately strain 
 She takes our weary earth upon her breast. 
 And, like a mother, hushes us to rest. 
 
 Bidding us now forget life's toil and pain. 
 
 'Tis said that morning's joy shall end the night. 
 The dayspring drive the darkness far away, 
 
 And new-born gladness comfort them that weep : 
 
 Let those who can, look forward to the light. 
 And plan the pleasures of the coming day ! 
 But I am weary — let me go to sleep. 
 
174 
 
 Three knights went forth to fight in days of yore : 
 The first in golden armour glittered bright, 
 The next in burnished silver glistened white, 
 
 The third a well-worn suit of iron wore. 
 
 Each on his breast a carven legend bore : 
 " Who wears the Gold shall conquer in the fight 1 "- 
 " Pleasure and ease attend the Silver Knight ! " — 
 
 " The Iron Knight hath better things in store I " 
 
 They fought right bravely through the bitter fray ; 
 
 And when at last night fell o'er land and sea 
 
 Each warrior went to his allotted place : 
 
 The first was crowned the victor of the day. 
 The next forgot his toils in mirth and glee. 
 The third lay dead, a smile upon his face. 
 
175 
 
 9Co iWg Jfn'enlr. 
 
 My friend, when thou wart here the woods were gay 
 
 With Summer sunshine glinting far and near ; 
 
 Above our heads the sapphire sky shone clear 
 In all the glory of the golden day. 
 'Tis Autumn now that thou art gone away, 
 
 The wild winds wail through woodlands dark and 
 drear 
 
 In sorrow for the slowly dying year, 
 And all the sullen sky with gloom is grey. 
 They tell me that the Winter will not last — 
 
 That I shall find again with smiling Spring 
 A glad new year all clad in vernal green ; 
 But ne'er can it recall the happy past, 
 
 Nor the departed days ; nor can it bring 
 Another friend as dear as thou hast been. 
 
176 
 
 Co MV ^a^P* 
 
 Sweet Lady mine, a rose thou gavest me ! 
 As long as it was fragrant, fresh, and fair, 
 Upon my breast did I my treasure wear 
 
 That all the world its excellence might see. 
 
 But when at last its beauty ceased to be, 
 
 And men no longer for its charms could care, 
 I hid it next my heart — and keep it there 
 
 For ever in fond memory of thee. 
 
 So will I deal with thee, fair Lady mine ! — 
 
 Whilst thou art young I'll wear thee as a flower 
 That all the world may see thee and adore ; 
 
 But when thy peerless charms have ceased to shine 
 And men no longer own thy beauty's power, 
 I'll hide thee next my heart for evermore. 
 
177 
 
 Few friends have I to whom I now could say, 
 " My mind to you is Hke an open book ; 
 In all its secret places ye may look, 
 
 And I shall never need to say you nay ! " 
 
 For howsoever near and dear were they, 
 
 They might, perchance, explore some hidden nook 
 Where friendship's fixed foundations faintly shook, 
 
 And dim, disloyal shadows shunned the day. 
 
 But shouldst thou, dearest, with unblinded eyes 
 The dark recesses of my spirit prove. 
 And all its inmost sanctuaries see ; 
 
 Much wouldst thou find that was not good or wise. 
 And much, maybe, unworthy of thy love. 
 But not a single thought untrue to thee. 
 
178 
 
 ^g in a (glasifli. 
 
 Dear, hast thou ever learned to thy surprise 
 
 On entering a chamber mirror-lined, 
 
 That all the friends thou didst appear to find 
 Were but thyself reflected severalwise ? 
 The room seemed full to unaccustomed eyes 
 
 Whilst thou wert there; but when thou wert in- 
 clined 
 
 To leave it, nothing then remained behind 
 But emptiness proportioned to its size. 
 So if thou lookest in my heart, dear Love, 
 
 Such overflowing fulness wilt thou see 
 
 That thou shalt seek a vacant spot in vain : 
 But on a close inspection it will prove 
 
 To be completely filled with nought but thee ; 
 And wert thou gone, then nothing would remain. 
 
179 
 
 ^ spring l^xu\i. 
 
 Across the valley swept a balmy breeze, 
 
 Which came from far beyond the purple hills ; 
 
 And at his touch the happy little rills 
 Laughed, and forgot that they had learned to freeze 
 He breathed new life among the forest trees. 
 
 And carpeted the fields with daffodils ; 
 
 Then passed away, as one who just fulfils 
 A task, nor cares if the result will please. 
 So didst thou turn my Winter into Spring — 
 
 Life's deeper meanings teaching me to see. 
 Till in waste places flowers began to grow ; 
 Then — smiling as at some unheeded thing — 
 
 Didst sdiy farewell. What thou hast been to me 
 I cannot say, and thou wilt never know. 
 
i8o 
 
 Nature's! ^[patfep* 
 
 No heart hath Nature, though across the wold 
 The Summer breezes wander to and fro — 
 Though vine-clad mountains in the sunlight glow, 
 
 And smiling vales stand thick with harvest-gold. 
 
 She is as heedless as she was of old : 
 
 And cares no more for human weal or woe 
 Than when she scattered her hoar-frost and snow, 
 
 And none were able to abide her cold. 
 
 So — crying : " Who will show us any good .■' " — 
 We turn from Nature's apathy, which chills 
 The gladness and the grief beyond her ken, 
 
 To One Who sits above the waterflood — 
 Who weighs as dust the everlasting hills — 
 And yet is mindful of the sons of men. 
 
i8i 
 
 I AM too worn and weary now to trace 
 The story of what thou for me hast done 
 In all my wanderings underneath the sun 
 
 Since that fair morn when first I saw thy face. 
 
 I fain would rest me for a little space, 
 Let Time's relentless hour-glass idly run ; 
 But do not blame me, dear, nor deem me one 
 
 Devoid of either gratitude or grace. 
 
 I am not thankless — only tired, my sweet ; 
 And simply ask to hold thee by the hand 
 In silence while the shades of evening fall. 
 
 Yet it may come to pass we twain shall meet 
 Beyond the borders of the Shadowland, 
 And then it will be time to tell thee all. 
 
l82 
 
 Co tf)t (Bla ^ear» 
 
 Old Year, farewell ! thy fateful thread is spun, 
 And now at last thy finished work we see. 
 Though thou hast been a kindly friend to me 
 
 I do not sorrow that thy course is run : 
 
 The golden glory of thy setting sun 
 Is but the dawning of a year to be, 
 So all regretful thoughts. Old Year, of thee 
 
 Are lost in gladness for the year begun. 
 
 Old Year, 'twas true thy pleasures could not last ; 
 But yet I hold it also to be true 
 That bright to-morrows shall eclipse to-day : 
 
 The future shall be better than the past — 
 The old shall be forgotten in the new — 
 Until " the former things are passed away," 
 
183 
 
 Co tf)t Bfia ^ear* 
 
 We bid thee welcome, thou unknown New Year, 
 With all the treasures that thou hast in store ! 
 Thou mayst bring less than former years, or more — 
 
 Yet still above them all we count thee dear ; 
 
 For they have passed away, but thou art near : 
 And though we cannot change those days of yore. 
 Thou sayst, as thou art knocking at the door — 
 
 " Do with me as ye will, for I am here ! " 
 
 And who will sigh for withered leaves and dead. 
 Whilst far in front and fair on either side 
 
 Fresh living flowers make all the meadows bright? 
 
 And who will turn — regretful tears to shed — 
 Towards the sad West where yesterday has died. 
 Whilst all the East shines red with morning 
 light ? 
 
1 84 
 
 ^earlp (gates* 
 
 Twelve gates — each gate a pearl — shall open wide 
 To welcome conquering hosts who come to fling 
 Their golden crowns before their Lord and King 
 
 In that fair City, His all-glorious bride. 
 
 A pearl is found beneath the flowing tide 
 
 And there is held a worse than worthless thing, 
 Spoiling the shell-built home where it doth cling — 
 
 Marring the life near which it must abide. 
 
 The everlasting portals are of these. 
 
 To teach us that perchance some heavy load — 
 Some cross 'gainst which so sorely we have striven, 
 
 That seems to mar our lives and spoil our ease — 
 May bring us nearer to the Saints' abode, 
 And prove at last the very Gate of Heaven, 
 
i85 
 
 " a 3Sairrt)oto rounti about tf)t Cftrone/' 
 
 (Revelation iv. 3.) 
 
 A RAINBOW round the Throne shall shed its light 
 To tell the old, old story o'er again, 
 That only in the clouds once black with rain 
 
 The Arc of Promise sets its jewels bright ; 
 
 That only those who well have fought the fight 
 And here on earth have suffered grief and pain, 
 Can learn to swell that new, triumphant strain 
 
 Which ransomed hosts shall sing on Sion's height. 
 
 And then those white-robed armies, who have passed 
 Through tribulation in the bygone years, 
 
 Shall learn that all the sorrow they have known 
 
 Serves but to bring them fuller joy at last. 
 
 When Heaven's sunshine falling on Earth's tears 
 Girds with a Rainbow the Eternal Throne. 
 
1 86 
 
 I DREAMED about Earth's garden, where I found 
 That little foxes spoil the tender vine ; 
 Among the roses deadly creepers twine, 
 
 And lilies fair lie trampled on the ground ; 
 
 Whilst round them all the Serpent's coils are wound. 
 Whereat dense darkness of despair was mine. 
 For in my blindness I perceived no sign 
 
 Of help or comfort as I gazed around. 
 
 Then One, I took to be the Gardener, came ; 
 To Whom I cried, " Sir, is it nought to Thee 
 That sin and sorrow spoil Thy flowerets sweet .' " 
 
 For answer He but called me by my name, 
 And — as I doubted — turned and looked on me. 
 Who said, " Rabboni ! "—falling at His Feet. 
 
i8; 
 
 Fair flower ! thou waitest on the Sun all day, 
 Till in the West his light doth fade and die ; 
 Then Westward dost thou turn thy weeping eye 
 
 To guard the gates through which he passed away. 
 
 Whilst thou art watching at those portals grey 
 In vain for him that lately reigned on high, 
 A sudden glory floods the Eastern sky 
 
 Where round their rising king the sunbeams play. 
 
 Sweet flower, thou servest to remind us now 
 Of her who long ago, in bitter need. 
 
 Sought vainly that dead Lord she held so dear : 
 
 She heard an angel's voice — " Why weepest thoU ? 
 He is not here, for He is ris'n indeed ! " 
 And turning straightway saw her Master near. 
 
i88 
 
 "In darkest England let there now be light!" 
 Men start at first to hear the trumpet blare ; 
 Then fall to wondering how and when and where 
 The sunshine best should meet the human sight : 
 If through the lens of science clear and white 
 The people that in darkness dwell should dare 
 To look ; or if they first should see the glare 
 Made soft by " storied windows richly dight " : — 
 Forgetting that the sunshine is the same, 
 Whether it glitter through some leafless tree, 
 Or glow through panes bejewelled in the past, 
 Or glide through broken rafters like a flame : 
 These things change not the light ; we only see 
 A difference in the shadows that they cast. 
 
1 89 
 
 One day I grieved because our greatest gain 
 
 Grows pale beside the smallest loss we feel ; 
 
 One hour of wrong can years of right repeal ; 
 One faulty link can spoil the strongest chain ; 
 One little thorn can cause a cruel pain 
 
 That twice ten thousand roses cannot heal ; 
 
 One harsh discordant note can straightway steal 
 All harmony from e'en the sweetest strain. 
 To these my doubts there came an answer sure — 
 
 " God's laws are right if rightly understood ! 
 Man's patent of perfection lies in this, 
 That nought imperfecj; can his soul endure : 
 
 The highest natures seek the highest good 
 Till they are perfect as their Father is." 
 
I90 
 
 mt mm ot mt. 
 
 Think not the weary warfare nought avails, 
 Though oftentimes it seem beyond thy might. 
 Strive ever on the side of truth and right, 
 
 And heed not whom the world as victor hails ! 
 
 We know not here who conquers, or who fails ; 
 But angels gazing from their peaceful height 
 See clearly those who well have fought the fight. 
 
 And name him Prince who wrestles and prevails. 
 
 So one, perchance, whom men called strong and 
 brave, 
 Shall find his wreath of earthly laurels fade 
 When heaven's glory ends the storm and strife ; 
 
 Whilst one, who slept within a nameless grave, 
 Shall stand before the seraphs undismayed. 
 And wear upon his brow a crown of life. 
 
191 
 
 Now Jacob took his gods of wood and stone 
 
 And buried them at Shechem, so we read ; 
 
 Then journeyed onward, as the Lord decreed, 
 To Bethel, to erect one Shrine alone. 
 We likewise, travelling by a way unknown 
 
 To reach the great High-Altar, oft have need 
 
 To re-enact the patriarchal deed, 
 And put away the forms we have outgrown. 
 Yet Israel did not burn his cast-off gods, 
 
 Nor break them up, but laid them in the mould 
 Beneath an oak-tree by the way he came : 
 So may we leave in consecrated sods 
 
 The images that taught our souls of old, 
 
 Nor deem the Shechem in our hearts a shame. 
 
192 
 
 stream antr Hafee. 
 
 A STREAMLET started singing seaward-ho ! 
 But found across the path its fancy planned 
 A stone which stopped it with the stern command, 
 
 " Thus far and never farther shalt thou go." 
 
 Then, where the tiny stream was wont to flow, 
 A shining lake appeared with silver strand, 
 Refreshing flower-strewn fields on either hand — 
 
 Reflecting starry skies and sunset glow. 
 
 So oftentimes we find our progress stayed 
 
 By stones that bar the steps we fain had trod ; 
 Whereat we murmur with a sense of wrong, 
 
 Unmindful that by means Hke this is made 
 That sea of glass where stand the saints of God 
 To sing the new and never-ending song. 
 
193 
 
 €i)t JSteton jTisiftermeu'si ^raptr. 
 
 " Dear Lord, Thy sea is great — our boats are small ! " 
 So cry the fishers of the Northern sea 
 When God's high wind ariseth stormily, 
 Uplifting them before a sudden fall. 
 Thus in distress we also ofttimes call 
 When blindly beaten to and fro are we, 
 Far from the haven where we fain would be, 
 While wind-swept seas our melting hearts appal. 
 And when for us the waves thereof are still, 
 And we would gladly help those storm-tossed 
 souls 
 Who yet are struggling 'neath the tempest's 
 weight, 
 Feeling the frailty of all human skill. 
 
 We humbly whisper, whilst the thunder rolls, 
 " Dear Lord, our boats are small — Thy sea is 
 great ! " 
 
 M 
 
194 
 
 €f)t ISest Ctll Hasit. 
 
 " Fill up the pots with water to the brim ; 
 
 And, having fully filled them, straightway pour ! " 
 They did as He commanded them, and bore 
 To one that gave the feast ; who touched the rim. 
 Then cried, " Most men, when lights are burning dim 
 And all the glory of the feast is. o'er. 
 Stop the good wine and bring a poorer store : 
 But of a truth it is not so with Him." 
 Life likewise giveth all her good wine first : 
 
 Youth, Pleasure, Love, before the guests are laid ; 
 Then, when the festival is well-nigh past 
 And men have drunk the best, they drain the worst 
 And disappointed die ; but He, Who made 
 The water wine, will keep His best till last. 
 
195 
 
 The drops of water which have turned the wheel 
 Will ne'er come back to turn the wheel again : 
 The blossoms which have shed their rosy rain 
 
 Will nevermore the Spring's sweet promise seal. 
 
 Yet still the miller slowly grinds to meal 
 His goodly store of golden-tinted grain ; 
 And still the Spring returns to hill and plain, 
 
 And treads the dust to flowers beneath her heel. 
 
 Fear ye not, therefore, lest the cause ye love 
 
 Should languish, when your tender, toil-worn hands 
 Are crossed in peace beneath the daisied sod ! 
 
 The Means wax old and perishable prove — 
 The End endures eternally, and stands 
 Above the ages, face to face with God. 
 
196 
 
 Strangely the wondrous story doth begin 
 Of that which came to pass on Christmas Day — 
 " The new-born babe within a manger lay 
 
 Because there was no room inside the inn." 
 
 No room for Him Who came to conquer sin 
 And bid distress and mourning flee away ! 
 So in the stable He was fain to stay 
 
 Whilst revelry and riot reigned within. 
 
 And still the same old tale is told again : 
 The world is full of greed and gain and glee, 
 And has no room for God because of them. 
 
 Lord, though my heart be filled with joy and pain, 
 Grant that it ne'er may find no room for Thee, 
 Like that benighted inn at Bethlehem ! 
 
197 
 
 The women sought the tomb at dawn of day, 
 
 And as they went they wept and made their moan 
 " His sepulchre is guarded by a stone, 
 
 And who for us shall roll the stone away ? " 
 
 But lo ! — an Angel, robed in white array, 
 Had rent the rock and sat thereon alone. 
 " Fear not," said he ; " the Lord hath overthrown 
 
 The power of Death : I show you where He lay." 
 
 We echo oftentimes that cry of old : 
 
 Huge stumbling-blocks confront us whilst we wait 
 And wonder, weeping, who will help afford : 
 
 But as we question sorrowing, behold ! 
 The stone is rolled away, though it is great, 
 And on it sits the Angel of the Lord, 
 
198 
 
 The Syrians said, " Their God is of the hill, 
 
 And in high places He is wont to reign ; 
 
 But let us fight with Israel on the plain, 
 And it will he our turn to smite and kill ! " 
 So now again we cry, " The Lord doth fill 
 
 The heavens with the glory of His train ; 
 
 But to earth's darkest depths of grief and pain 
 He stoops not, leaving sin to work its will ! " 
 Still runs the answer, " Woe to them tha;t see 
 
 In Me unrighteousness, nor understand 
 That high and lowly are of equal worth ! 
 Both light and darkness are alike to Me : 
 
 The mountains' strength is Mine ; and in 
 My Hand 
 Are all the hidden corners of the earth." 
 
199 
 
 Ef)t BeaTi anlr tfie Hibi'ng, 
 
 " Shall the dead praise Thee ? " was the Psalmist's 
 cry : 
 " Shall all Thy wonders in the grave be shown ? 
 Or can Thy lovingkindness be made known 
 In that forgetful land where shadows lie ? " 
 But he, who saw descending from the sky 
 The holy City like a jasper stone, 
 Told how the elders round the emerald Throne 
 Chanted in heaven their glorious psalmody. 
 " To God be blessing, honour, power and might 
 For ever ! " sang a countless, white-robed throng : 
 And only they, who suffered death's ech'pse 
 And passed through darkness into dazzling light, 
 Could learn that new and everlasting song. 
 So spake the Seer of the Apocalypse. 
 
200 
 
 €f)t (j^facnmg anti ti)t iMo ruing. 
 
 Say not that darkness is the doom of light, 
 That every sun must sink in night's abyss, 
 While every golden day declines to this, 
 
 To die and pass at evening out of sight. 
 
 Say rather that the morning ends the night, 
 
 That death must die beneath the dayspring's kiss — 
 Whilst dawn the powers of darkness shall dismiss, 
 
 And put their dusky armaments to flight. 
 
 Man measures life in this wise ; first the morn. 
 And secondly the noontide's perfect prime, 
 And lastly night, when all things fade away : 
 
 But God, ere yet the sons of men were born. 
 Showed forth a better way of marking time — 
 " The evening and the morning were the day." 
 
20I 
 
 aaaulfiuna's! J^ampton, 
 
 ( Wolverhampton.) 
 
 Now certain women carved their names in stone 
 Tliat whosoever ran the same might read. 
 Cambridge was founded by Saint Etheldrede, 
 
 The holy daughter of an Anglian throne : 
 
 Saint Frideswide it was made Oxford known 
 By many a generous gift and godly deed : 
 Saint Hilda nobly helped Northumbria's need 
 
 When Whitby's abbey to full height had grown. 
 
 Wulfruna, likewise, chose the better part ; 
 And in the midst of this our Mercian plain 
 A stately minster to God's glory raised, 
 
 To prove thereafter to the thronging mart 
 That favour is deceitful, beauty vain. 
 
 But she that fears her Maker shall be praised. 
 
302 
 
 {loi/t May, 1893.) 
 
 The sons of England shouted, " Let us raise 
 A princely palace, 'mid a people's cheers, 
 In memory of half a hundred years 
 
 Of queenly progress in all perfect ways ! 
 
 And o'er its porch this paean let us blaze : 
 ' Tis England that is prime among her peers ; 
 No powers nor principalities she fears ; 
 
 To England therefore be perpetual praise ! " 
 
 And England answered, " Do as ye have said, 
 
 That so their fathers' glory may be shown 
 
 To generations which come after you. 
 
 But rase your writing, and inscribe instead 
 The superscription of the Prophet's stone : 
 The Lord our God hath helped us hitherto!' 
 
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Cornell University Library 
 -r. ou I I.096V6 1905 
 
 Verses, wise or otherwise, with which are 
 
 3 1924 013 614 049