Poetry

sweet sisters; brothers, be consoled:⁠—
Behind me comes a shining one indeed;
Christ’s friend, who from life’s cross did take him down,
And set upon his day night’s starry crown!
“Death,” say’st thou? Nay⁠—thine be no caitiff creed!⁠—
A woman-angel! see⁠—in long white gown!
The mother of our youth!⁠—she maketh speed.

From North Wales: To the Mother

When the summer gave us a longer day,
And the leaves were thickest, I went away:
Like an isle, through dark clouds, of the infinite blue,
Was that summer-ramble from London and you.

It was but one burst into life and air,
One backward glance on the skirts of care,
A height on the hills with the smoke below⁠—
And the joy that came quickly was quick to go.

But I know and I cannot forget so soon
How the Earth is shone on by Sun and Moon;
How the clouds hide the mountains, and how they move
When the morning sunshine lies warm above.

I know how the waters fall and run
In the rocks and the heather, away from the sun;
How they hang like garlands on all hill-sides,
And are the land’s music, those crystal tides.

I know how they gather in valleys fair,
Meet valleys those beautiful waves to bear;
How they dance through the rocks, how they rest in the pool,
How they darken, how sparkle, and how they are cool.

I know how the rocks from their kisses climb
To keep the storms off with a front sublime;
And how on their platforms and sloping walls
The shadow of oak-tree and fir-tree falls.

I know how the valleys are bright from far,
Rocks, meadows, and waters, the wood and the scaur;
And how the roadside and the nearest hill
The foxglove and heather and harebell fill.

I know⁠—but the joy that was quick to go
Gave more knowledge to me than words can show;
And you know the story, and how they fare
Who love the green earth and the heavenly air.

Come to Me

Come to me, come to me, O my God;
Come to me everywhere!
Let the trees mean thee, and the grassy sod,
And the water and the air!

For thou art so far that I often doubt,
As on every side I stare,
Searching within, and looking without,
If thou canst be anywhere.

How did men find thee in days of old?
How did they grow so sure?
They fought in thy name, they were glad and bold,
They suffered, and kept themselves pure!

But now they say⁠—neither above the sphere
Nor down in the heart of man,
But solely in fancy, ambition, and fear
The thought of thee began.

If only that perfect tale were true
Which ages have not made old,
Which of endless many makes one anew,
And simplicity manifold!

But he taught that they who did his word
The truth of it sure would know:
I will try to do it: if he be lord
Again the old faith will glow;

Again the old spirit-wind will blow
That he promised to their prayer;
And obeying the Son, I too shall know
His father everywhere!

A Fear

O Mother Earth, I have a fear
Which I would tell to thee⁠—
Softly and gently in thine ear
When the moon and we are three.

Thy grass and flowers are beautiful;
Among thy trees I hide;
And underneath the moonlight cool
Thy sea looks broad and wide;

But this I fear⁠—lest thou shouldst grow
To me so small and strange,
So distant I should never know
On thee a shade of change,

Although great earthquakes should uplift
Deep mountains from their base,
And thy continual motion shift
The lands upon thy face;⁠—

The grass, the flowers, the dews that lie
Upon them as before⁠—
Driven upwards evermore, lest I
Should love these things no more.

Even now thou dimly hast a place
In deep star galaxies!
And I, driven ever on through space,
Have lost thee in the skies!

The Lost House

Out of thy door I run to do the thing
That calls upon me. Straight the wind of words
Whoops from mine ears the sounds of them that sing
About their work, “My God, my father-king!”

I turn in haste to see thy blessed door,
But, lo, a cloud of flies and bats and birds,
And stalking vapours, and vague monster-herds
Have risen and lighted, rushed and swollen between!

Ah me! the house of peace is there no more.
Was it a dream then?⁠—Walls, fireside, and floor,
And sweet obedience, loving, calm, and free,
Are vanished⁠—gone as they had never been!

I labour groaning. Comes a sudden sheen!⁠—
And I am kneeling at my father’s knee,
Sighing with joy, and hoping utterly.

The Talk of the Echoes

A Fragment.

When the cock crows loud from the glen,
And the moor-cock chirrs from the heather,
What hear ye and see ye then,
Ye children of air and ether?

1st Echo	A thunder as of waves at the rising of the moon, And a darkness on the graves though the day is at its noon.
2nd Echo	A springing as of grass though the air is damp and chill, And a glimmer from the river that winds about the hill.
1st Echo	A lapse of crags that leant from the mountain’s earthen sheath, And a shock of ruin sent on the river underneath.
2nd Echo	A sound as of a building that groweth fair and good, And a piping of the thrushes from the hollow of the wood.
1st Echo	A wailing as of lambs that have wandered from the flock, And a bleating of their dams that was answered from the rock.
2nd Echo	A breathing as of cattle in the shadow where they dream, And a sound of children playing with the pebbles in the stream.
1st Echo	A driving as of clouds in the kingdom of the air, And a tumult as of crowds that mingle everywhere.
2nd Echo	A waving of the grass, and a passing o’er the lakes, And a shred of tempest-cloud in the glory when it breaks.

The Goal

In God alone, the perfect end,
Wilt thou find thyself or friend.

The Healer

They come to thee, the halt, the maimed, the blind,
The devil-torn, the sick, the sore;
Thy heart their well of life they find,
Thine ear their open door.

Ah, who can tell the joy in Palestine⁠—
What smiles and tears of rescued throngs!
Their lees