Thou and all strength shall crumble, | Unscarred by thy grim vulture, as the except Love, By whom, and for whose glory, ye shall truth Grows but more lovely 'neath the beaks and claws Of Harpies blind that fain would soil it, shall In all the throbbing exultations share That wait on freedom's triumphs, and in all The glorious agonies of martyr-spirits, Sharp lightning-throes to split the jagged clouds That veil the future, showing them the end, Pain's thorny crown for constancy and truth, Girding the temples like a wreath of While from my peak of suffering I look down, Beholding with a far-spread gush of hope The sunrise of that Beauty, in whose face, Shone all around with love, no man shall look But straightway like a god he be uplift Unto the throne long empty for his sake, And clearly oft foreshadowed in brave dreams By his free inward nature, which nor thou, Nor any anarch after thee, can bind From working its great doom, — now, now set free This essence, not to die, but to become Part of that awful Presence which doth | Loneliest, save me, of all created things, For wisdom is stern sorrow's patient child, And empire over self, and all the deep Strong charities that make men seem like gods; And love, that makes them be gods, from her breasts Sucks in the milk that makes mankind one blood. Good never comes unmixed, or so it seems, Having two faces, as some images Are carved, of foolish gods; one face is ill; But one heart lies beneath, and that is good, As are all hearts, when we explore their depths. Therefore, great heart, bear up! thou ar but type Of what all lofty spirits endure, that fain Would win men back to strength and peace through love: Each hath his lonely peak, and on each heart Envy, or scorn, or hatred, tears lifelong With vulture beak; yet the high soul is left: And faith, which is but hope grown | Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him. wise, and love And patience which at last shall over come. THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS. THERE came a youth upon the earth, Whether to plough, or reap, or sow. Upon an empty tortoise-shell He stretched some chords, and drew Music that made men's bosoms swell Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew. Then King Admetus, one who had Pure taste by right divine, And so, well pleased with being soothed His words were simple words enough, Men called him but a shiftless youth, They knew not how he learned at all, And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother as a god. THE TOKEN. IT is a mere wild rosebud, Quite sallow now, and dry, Lips must fade and roses wither, Stay with us no more: Thou hast given me many roses, With such a deep, wild bliss; Earth's stablest things are shadows, He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, Haply some chance-saved trifle It seemed the loveliness of things Did teach him all their use, For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse. Yet after he was dead and gone, May tell of this old home: As now sometimes we seem to find, In a dark crevice of the mind, Some relic, which, long pondered o'er, Hints faintly at a life before. AN INCIDENT IN A RAILROAD CAR He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough Pressed round to hear the praise of one Whose heart was made of manly, simple stuff, As homespun as their own. God scatters love on every side There is no wind but soweth seeds God wills, man hopes: in common souls Hope is but vague and undefined, Which burst, unlooked for, into high- Till from the poet's tongue the message souled deeds, With wayside beauty rife. We find within these souls of ours Some wild germs of a higher birth, Which in the poet's tropic heart bear flowers Whose fragrance fills the earth. Within the hearts of all men lie Which blossom into hopes that cannot die, In sunny hours like this. All that hath been majestical And thus, among the untaught poor, Great deeds and feelings find a home, That cast in shadow all the golden lore Of classic Greece and Rome. O, mighty brother-soul of man, rolls |