Eyes of Youth | Page 5

God, one thought had fled.
Into what dark, deep chasm this wayward one
Has sunk, I scarcely
know; I will not chide.
O Shepherd, leave me! Seek this lamb alone.

The ninety-nine are here. They will abide.
"NATURE IS THE LIVING MANTLE OF GOD_"--_GOETHE
O for the time when some impetuous breeze
Will catch Thy garment,
and, like autumn trees,
Toss it and rend it till Thou standest free,

And end Thy long secluded reverie!
Still now its beauty folds Thee, and--as she
Who kissed Thy garment
and had health from Thee--
I feel the sun, or hear some bird in bliss,

And Thou hast then my sudden, humble kiss.
SECRET PRAYER
Since that with lips which moved in one we prayed,
So that God
ceased to hear us speak apart,
What law irrevocable have we made?

How shall He hear a solitary heart
When He did need that we, to have His ear,
Should go aside and pray
together there
With urgent breath? Ah, now I pause and fear--
How
shall uprise my lonely, separate prayer?

THE UNHEEDED
Upon one hand your kisses chanced to rest:
I smiled upon the other
hand and said
"Poor thing," when you had gone: and then in quest

Of pity rose a clamour from the dead--
Some way of mine, some
word, some look, some jest
Complained they too went all
uncoveted ...
That night I took these troubles to my breast,
And
played that you and I, my own, were wed;
Those troubles were our
child, with eyes of fear,--
A wailing babe, whom I, his mother dear,

Must soothe to quiet rest and calm relief,
And urge his eyes to
sleeping by and by.
"O hush," I said, and wept to see such grief;

"Hush, hush, your father must not hear you cry."
DREAM OF DEATH
In sleep my idle thoughts were sadly led
By wild dark ways: it
strangely seemed that I
Must join the number of the silent dead,

And with my young and fearful heart must die.
But ah, what drew my bitter moans and sighs,
And pierced my
sleeping spirit, was that she
Who with the saddest tears would close
these eyes
And with maternal passion mourn for me,
She on some pleasure-errand stayed away.
Ah, bitter, bitter thought!
Ah, lonely death
To seek me in the night! And not till day
Had
come and soothed my fear, and calmed my breath,
And in the sun my new life I could kiss,
And look with prayer and
hope to future years,
Did I discern God's mercy still in this--
That I
was spared the anguish of her tears.

RUTH TEMPLE LINDSAY
MATER SALVATORIS

Ah, wilt thou turn aside and see
The little Child on Mary's knee?

Enter the stable bleak and cold,
Grope through the straw and myrrh
and gold;
Seek in the darkness near and far--
Lift up the lantern and
the Star.
Rough shepherds came to love and greet,
There knelt three
kings at Mary's feet.
Ah! draw thee nigh the holy place--
He
sleepeth well in her embrace,
The little Saviour of thy race--
Then
raise thine eyes to Mary's face.
But wilt thou come in years to be?
She held Him dead across her
knee.
Stretch Him aloft on planks of wood;
Offer Him gall for tears
and blood.
Blazon thy hatred far and near:
Lift up the hammer and
the spear.
Red thorns about his head were wound--
There lay three
nails upon the ground.
Yea I Heed the Lover of thy race--
He lieth
dead in her embrace.
Ah! scourge thy soul with its disgrace:
Then
raise thine eyes to Mary's face.
TO CHOOSE
Thou canst choose the eastern Circle for thy part,
And within its
sacred precincts thou shalt rest;
Thou shalt fold pale, slender hands
upon thy breast,
Thou shalt fasten silent eyes upon thy heart.
If
there steal within the languor of thine ark
The thunder of the waters
of the earth,
The human, simple cries of pain and mirth,
The wails
of little children in the dark,
Thou shalt contemplate thy Circle's
radiant gleam,
Thou shalt gather self and God more closely still:

Let the Piteous and the Foolish moan at will,
So thou shelter in the
sweetness of thy dream.
Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,
Thou shalt
stand upon the common, human sod,
Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes
unto thy God,
Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west

Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell--

Thou shalt gather
all the answers of the Earth,
Thou shalt wring repose from weariness
and dearth,
Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell--
But thy

height shall touch the height of God above,
And thy breadth shall
span the breadth of pole to pole,
And thy depth shall sound the depth
of every soul,
And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.
THE HUNTERS
"_The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about
seeking whom he may
detour_"
The Lion, he prowleth far and near,
Nor swerves for pain or rue;
He
heeded nought of sloth nor fear,
He prowleth--prowleth through

The silent glade and the weary street,
In the empty dark and the full
noon heat;
And a little Lamb with aching Feet--
He prowleth too.
The Lion croucheth alert, apart--
With patience doth he woo;
He