The Dreamers | Page 3

him cursed and
unconfessed.
An outcast he who dared not take
The wafer that God's vicars break,

But dull-eyed watched his neighbours pass
With shining faces

from the Mass.
Oh thou, my brother, take my hand,
More than one God hath blessed
and banned
And hidden from man's anguished glance
The glory of
his countenance.
All that I know of love I see
In eyes that never look at me;
All that I
know of love I guess
But from another's happiness.
THE NEW SPRING
The long grief left her old--and then
Came love and made her young
again
As though some newer, gentler Spring
Should start dead
roses blossoming;
Old roses that have lain full long
In some
forgotten book of song,
Brought from their darkness to be one
With
lilting winds and rain and sun;
And as they too might bring away

From that dim volume where they lay
Some lyric hint, some song's
perfume
To add its beauty to their bloom,
So love awakes her heart
that lies
Shrouded in fragrant memories,
And bids it bloom again
and wake
Sweeter for that old sorrow's sake.
THE BURDEN
The burden that I bear would be no less
Should I cry out against it;
though I fill
The weary day with sound of my distress,
It were my
burden still.
The burden that I bear may be no more
For all I bear it silently and
stay
Sometimes to laugh and listen at a door
Where joy keeps
holiday.
I ask no more save only this may be--
On life's long road, where
many comrades fare,
One shall not guess, though he keep step with
me,
The burden that I bear.
THE BRIDE

I
Though other eyes were turned to him,
He turned to look in mine;

Though others filled the cup abrim,
He might not taste the wine.
I am so glad my eyes were first
In which his own might sink;
I am
so glad he went athirst
Until I bade him drink.
II
The Well-Belovèd took my hand
And led me to his fair abode,
The
home that Love and he had planned.
(Strange that so well I knew the
road.)
And through the open door we went,
And at our feet the hearth-light
fell,
And I--I laughed in all content,
Seeing I knew the place so
well.
Ah, to no stranger Love displayed
Its every nook, its every grace,

This was the House of Dreams I made
Long, long before I saw his
face.
III
I jested over-much in days of old,
I looked on sorrow once and did
not care,
Now Love hath crowned my head with very gold,
I will be
worthy of the joy I wear.
There is not one a-hungered or a-cold
Shall seek my door but that he
too shall share
Something of this vast happiness I hold;
I will be
worthy of the joy I wear.
For I was hungered and Love spread the feast,
Cold--and He touched
my heart and warmed it there,
Yea, crowned me Queen--I neediest of
His least,
I will be worthy of the joy I wear.

THE SEER OF HEARTS
For mocking on men's faces
He only sees instead
The hidden,
hundred traces
Of tears their eyes have shed.
Above their lips denying,
Through all their boasting dares,
He hears
the anguished crying
Of old unanswered prayers.
And through the will's reliance
He only sees aright
A frightened
child's defiance
Left lonely in the night.
THE UNSEEN MIRACLE
The Angel of the night when night was gone
High upon Heaven's
ramparts, cried, "The Dawn!"
And wheeling worlds grew radiant with the one
And undiminished
glory of the sun.
And Angel, Seraph, Saint and Cherubim
Raised to the morning their
exultant hymn.
All Heaven thrilled anew to look upon
The great recurring miracle of
dawn.
And in the little worlds beneath them--men
Rose, yawned and ate and
turned to toil again.
THE APRIL BOUGHS
It was not then her heart broke--
That moment when she knew
That
all her faith held holiest
Was utterly untrue.
It was not then her heart broke--
That night of prayer and tears

When first she dared the thought of life
Through all the empty years.
But when beneath the April boughs
She felt the blossoms stir,
The

careless mirth of yesterday
Came near and smiled at her.
Old singing lingered in the wind,
Old joy came close again,
Oh,
underneath the April boughs,
I think her heart broke then.
TRANSIENTS
They are ashamed who leave so soon
The Inn of Grief--who thought
to stay
Through many a faithful sun and moon,
Yet tarry but a day.
Shame-faced I watch them pay the score,
Then straight with eager
footsteps press
Where waits beyond its rose-wreathed door
The Inn
of Happiness.
I wish I did not know that here,
Here too--where they have dreamed
to stay
So many and many a golden year
They lodge but for a day.
THE MOTHER
So quietly I seem to sit apart;
I think she does not know or guess at
all,
How dear this certain hour to my old heart,
When in our quiet
street the shadows fall.
She leans and listens at the little gate.
I sit so still, not any eye might
see
How watchfully before her there I wait
For that one step that
brings my world to me.
She does not know