A Century of Roundels | Page 8

left: can death refrain?
Two years since was love's light song mistaken,
Blessing then both
blossoms, half in vain?
Night outspeeding light hath overtaken
One of twain.
II.
Night and light? O thou of heart unwary,
Love, what knowest thou
here at all aright,
Lured, abused, misled as men by fairy
Night and light?
Haply, where thine eyes behold but night,
Soft as o'er her babe the
smile of Mary
Light breaks flowerwise into new-born sight.
What though night of light to thee be chary?
What though stars of
hope like flowers take flight?
Seest thou all things here, where all see
vary
Night and light?
DEATH AND BIRTH
Death and birth should dwell not near together:
Wealth keeps house
not, even for shame, with dearth:
Fate doth ill to link in one brief
tether
Death and birth.

Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the girth
Seems that girds
them each with each: yet whether
Death be best, who knows, or life
on earth?
Ill the rose-red and the sable feather
Blend in one crown's plume, as
grief with mirth:
Ill met still are warm and wintry weather,
Death and birth.
BIRTH AND DEATH
Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother,
Night and day, on all
things that draw breath,
Reign, while time keeps friends with one
another
Birth and death.
Each brow-bound with flowers diverse of wreath,
Heaven they hail as
father, earth as mother,
Faithful found above them and beneath.
Smiles may lighten tears, and tears may smother
Smiles, for all that
joy or sorrow saith:
Joy nor sorrow knows not from each other
Birth and death.
BENEDICTION
Blest in death and life beyond man's guessing
Little children live and
die, possest
Still of grace that keeps them past expressing
Blest.
Each least chirp that rings from every nest,
Each least touch of
flower-soft fingers pressing
Aught that yearns and trembles to be
prest,
Each least glance, gives gifts of grace, redressing
Grief's worst

wrongs: each mother's nurturing breast
Feeds a flower of bliss,
beyond all blessing
Blest.
ETUDE REALISTE
I.
A Baby's feet, like sea-shells pink,
Might tempt, should heaven see meet,
An angel's lips to kiss, we
think,
A baby's feet.
Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat
They stretch and spread and wink
Their ten soft buds that part and
meet.
No flower-bells that expand and shrink
Gleam half so heavenly sweet
As shine on life's untrodden brink
A baby's feet.
II.
A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled
Whence yet no leaf expands,
Ope if you touch, though close
upcurled,
A baby's hands.
Then, fast as warriors grip their brands
When battle's bolt is hurled,
They close, clenched hard like tightening

bands.
No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled
Match, even in loveliest lands,
The sweetest flowers in all the world -
A baby's hands.
III.
A baby's eyes, ere speech begin,
Ere lips learn words or sighs,
Bless all things bright enough to win
A baby's eyes.
Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies,
And sleep flows out and in,
Sees perfect in them Paradise.
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,
Their speech make dumb the wise,
By mute glad godhead felt within
A baby's eyes.
BABYHOOD
I.
A baby shines as bright
If winter or if May be
On eyes that keep in
sight
A baby.
Though dark the skies or grey be,
It fills our eyes with light,
If
midnight or midday be.
Love hails it, day and night,
The sweetest thing that may be
Yet

cannot praise aright
A baby.
II.
All heaven, in every baby born,
All absolute of earthly leaven,

Reveals itself, though man may scorn
All heaven.
Yet man might feel all sin forgiven,
All grief appeased, all pain
outworn,
By this one revelation given.
Soul, now forget thy burdens borne:
Heart, be thy joys now seven
times seven:
Love shows in light more bright than morn
All heaven.
III.
What likeness may define, and stray not
From truth's exactest way,
A baby's beauty? Love can say not
What likeness may.
The Mayflower loveliest held in May
Of all that shine and stay not
Laughs not in rosier disarray.
Sleek satin, swansdown, buds that play not
As yet with winds that play,
Would fain be matched with this, and
may not:
What likeness may?

IV.
Rose, round whose bed
Dawn's cloudlets close,
Earth's
brightest-bred
Rose!
No song, love knows,
May praise the head
Your curtain shows.
Ere sleep has fled,
The whole child glows
One sweet live red
Rose.
FIRST FOOTSTEPS
A little way, more soft and sweet
Than fields aflower with May,
A babe's feet, venturing, scarce
complete
A little way.
Eyes full of dawning day
Look up for mother's eyes to meet,
Too blithe for song to say.
Glad as the golden spring to greet
Its first live leaflet's play,
Love, laughing, leads the little feet
A little way.
A NINTH BIRTHDAY
FEBRUARY 4, 1883
I.
Three times thrice hath winter's rough white wing
Crossed and
curdled wells and streams with ice
Since his birth whose praises love

would sing
Three times thrice.
Earth nor sea bears flower nor pearl of price
Fit to crown the forehead
of my king,
Honey meet to please him,