Bees in Amber | Page 7

Lord! a hand at the frozen pane!?--White on the night's black cold--?O my lamb! my lamb! are you come again??My dear lost lamb, are you come again??Are you come again to the fold??It is!... It is!... Now I thank Thee, Lord,?For Thy Mercies manifold!
_She is come again!?She is home again!?My lamb that strayed from the fold_!
BIDE A WEE!
Though the times be dark and dreary,?Though the way be long,?Keep your spirits bright and cheery,--?--"Bide a wee, and dinna weary!"?Is a heartsome song.
THE WORD THAT WAS LEFT UNSAID
"A red rose for my helmet,?And a word before we part!?The rose shall be my oriflamme?The word shall fill my heart."
_Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart--?Just a look, just a word and a look!?A look or a sign that my love shall divine?And a word for my hungering heart_!
She toyed with his love and her roses;?Was it mischief or mischance?--?She dropped him a rose--'twas a white one,?And he lifted it on his lance.
_Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart!?Is it thus--is it thus we part??With never a look, and never a sign,?Nor a word for my hungering heart_!
She sought him among the dying,?She found him among the dead;?And the rose was still in his helmet.?But his life had stained it red.
_Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart!?Now my heart within me is dead.?And alack for the look!?And alas for the sign!?And the word that was left unsaid_!
DON'T WORRY
Just do your best,?And leave the rest?To Him who gave you?Life,--?And Zeal for Labour,--?And the Joy of Strife,--?And Zest of Love,--?And all that lifts your soul above?The lower things.
Life's truest harvest is in what we would,?And strive our best for,?Not most in what we could.?The things we count supreme?Stand, haply, not so high?In God's esteem?As How_ and _Why.
All-Seeing Sight?Cleaves through the husk of things,?Right to the Roots and Springs,--?Sees all things whole,?And measures less the body than the soul.?All-Righteous Right?Will weigh men's motives,?Not their deeds alone.?End and Beginning unto Him are one;?And would_ for _could shall oft, perchance, atone.
Motives are seeds,?From which at times spring deeds?Not equal to the soul's outreaching hope.?Strive for the stars!?Count nought well done but best!?Then, with brave patience, leave the rest?To Him who knows.?He'll judge you justly ere the record close.
THE GOLDEN ROSE
The Golden Rose is blowing still,?Is growing still, is glowing still,?In lonely vale, on lordly hill,?The Golden Rose is glowing still;--?If only you can find it!
The Golden Rose still breaks and blows,?Still breaks and blows, still gleams and glows,?'Mid icy blasts, and wintry snows,?The Golden Rose still breaks and blows;--?Search w ell and you may find it!
The Golden Rose can never die,?'Tis grafted on Eternity;?In hearts that Love doth glorify,?The Golden Rose can never die,--?May it be yours to find it!
GADARA, A.D. 31
Rabbi, begone! Thy powers?Bring loss to us and ours.?Our ways are not as Thine.?Thou lovest men, we--swine.?Oh, get you hence, Omnipotence,?And take this fool of Thine!?His soul? What care we for his soul??What good to us that Thou hast made him whole,?Since we have lost our swine?
And Christ went sadly.?He had wrought for them a sign?Of Love, and Hope, and Tenderness divine;?They wanted--swine.?Christ stands without your door and gently knocks;?But if your gold, or swine, the entrance blocks,?He forces no man's hold--he will depart,?And leave you to the treasures of your heart.
No cumbered chamber will the Master share,?But one swept bare?By cleansing fires, then plenished fresh and fair?With meekness, and humility, and prayer.?There will He come, yet, coming, even there?He stands and waits, and will no entrance win?Until the latch be lifted from within.
THE BELLS OF STEPAN ILINE
(Cradle Song from "The Long Road.")
Whisht, Baby! Whisht!?Quick below the cover!?Down into your nest, my bird!?And--don't--you--dare--peep--over!?For the grey wolves they are prowling,?They are prowling, they are prowling.?And the snow-wind it is howling,?It is howling, it is howling.?Hark!--Hark!--?Out there in the dark--?Ow--ooh! Ow--ooh!?S-s-s-s-s-seee--oo--ooh!?The wolves they are lean,?So-o-o lean, so-o-o lean!?And the wind it is keen,?So-o-o keen, so-o-o keen!?And they seek little babies who aren't sleeping!?But lie you still, my Baby dear!?Lie still, lie still, and maybe you'll hear--?Hark!--Hark!--?Out there in the dark,--?The silver bells and the golden bells,?The swinging bells and the singing bells,--?The bells that are heard but never are seen,?The wind and the wolves, and the bells in between,--?The bells of Iline,?Good Stepan Iline,--?The bells of good Stepan Iline!
BOLT THAT DOOR!
Each sin has its door of entrance.?Keep--that--door--closed!?Bolt it tight!?Just outside, the wild beast crouches?In the night.?Pin the bolt with a prayer,?God will fix it there.
GIANT CIRCUMSTANCE
Though every nerve be strained?To fine accomplishment,?Full oft the life fall spent?Before the prize is gained.?And, in our discontent?At waste so evident,?In doubt and vast discouragement?We wonder what is meant.?But, tracing back, we find?A Power that held the ways--?A Mighty Hand, a Master Mind,?That all the troubled course defined?And overruled the days.?Some call it Fate; some--Chance;?Some--Giant Circumstance;?And some, upreaching to the sense?Of God within the circumstance,?Do call it--Providence!
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