A Century of Roundels | Page 5

blest,
Not with rapturous light of life's revealing -
Nay, but rest.
A DIALOGUE
I.
Death, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare,
of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would
be,
Death, if thou wilt?
No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some
roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's
hilt.
Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change
and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even
thus much to see,

Death, if thou wilt?
II.
Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou
of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold
and see,
Man, what art thou?
Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my
seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must
bow.
Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride
shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of
thee,
Man, what art thou?
III.
Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us
nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.
Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath
plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth
and sea.
Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows
of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.
PLUS ULTRA

Far beyond the sunrise and the sunset rises
Heaven, with worlds on
worlds that lighten and respond:
Thought can see not thence the goal
of hope's surmises
Far beyond.
Night and day have made an everlasting bond
Each with each to hide
in yet more deep disguises
Truth, till souls of men that thirst for truth
despond.
All that man in pride of spirit slights or prizes,
All the dreams that
make him fearful, fain, or fond,
Fade at forethought's touch of life's
unknown surprises
Far beyond.
A DEAD FRIEND
I.
Gone, O gentle heart and true,
Friend of hopes foregone,
Hopes and hopeful days with you
Gone?
Days of old that shone
Saw what none shall see anew,
When we gazed thereon.
Soul as clear as sunlit dew,
Why so soon pass on,
Forth from all we loved and knew
Gone?
II.

Friend of many a season fled,
What may sorrow send
Toward thee now from lips that said
'Friend'?
Sighs and songs to blend
Praise with pain uncomforted
Though the praise ascend?
Darkness hides no dearer head:
Why should darkness end
Day so soon, O dear and dead
Friend?
III.
Dear in death, thou hast thy part
Yet in life, to cheer
Hearts that held thy gentle heart
Dear.
Time and chance may sear
Hope with grief, and death may part
Hand from hand's clasp here:
Memory, blind with tears that start,
Sees through every tear
All that made thee, as thou art,
Dear.
IV.
True and tender, single-souled,
What should memory do
Weeping o'er the trust we hold

True?
Known and loved of few,
But of these, though small their fold,
Loved how well were you!
Change, that makes of new things old,
Leaves one old thing new;
Love which promised truth, and told
True.
V.
Kind as heaven, while earth's control
Still had leave to bind
Thee, thy heart was toward man's whole
Kind.
Thee no shadows blind
Now: the change of hours that roll
Leaves thy sleep behind.
Love, that hears thy death-bell toll
Yet, may call to mind
Scarce a soul as thy sweet soul
Kind.
VI.
How should life, O friend, forget
Death, whose guest art thou?
Faith responds to love's regret,
How?
Still, for us that bow
Sorrowing, still, though life be set,

Shines thy bright mild brow.
Yea, though death and thou be met,
Love may find thee now
Still, albeit we know not yet
How.
VII.
Past as music fades, that shone
While its life might last;
As a song-bird's shadow flown
Past!
Death's reverberate blast
Now for music's lord has blown
Whom thy love held fast.
Dead thy king, and void his throne:
Yet for grief at last
Love makes music of his own
Past.
PAST DAYS
I.
Dead and gone, the days we had together,
Shadow-stricken all the
lights that shone
Round them, flown as flies the blown foam's feather,
Dead and gone.
Where we went, we twain, in time foregone,
Forth by land and sea,
and cared not whether,
If I go again, I go alone.

Bound am I with time as with a tether;
Thee perchance death leads
enfranchised on,
Far from deathlike life and changeful weather,
Dead and gone.
II.
Above the sea and sea-washed town we dwelt,
We twain together,
two brief summers, free
From heed of hours as light as clouds that
melt
Above the sea.
Free from all heed of aught at