our portion of forgetfulness, Silent and deep.
Lay Thou Thy quiet hand upon our eyes To close their sight; Shut out the shining of the moon and stars And candle-light.
Keep back the phantoms and the visions sad, The shades of grey, The fancies that so haunt the little hours Before the day.
Quiet the time-worn questions that are all Unanswered yet, Take from the spent and troubled souls of us Their vain regret;
And lead us far into Thy silent land, That we may go Like children out across the field o' dreams Where poppies blow.
So all Thy saints--and all Thy sinners too-- Wilt Thou not keep, Since not alone unto Thy well-beloved Thou givest sleep?
NOVEMBER
How like a hooded friar, bent and grey, Whose pensive lips speak only when they pray Doth sad November pass upon his way.
Through forest aisles while the wind chanteth low-- In God's cathedral where the great trees grow, Now all day long he paceth to and fro.
When shadows gather and the night-mists rise, Up to the hills he lifts his sombre eyes To where the last red rose of sunset lies.
A little smile he weareth, wise and cold, The smile of one to whom all things are old, And life is weary, as a tale twice told.
"Come see," he seems to say--"where joy has fled-- The leaves that burned but yesterday so red Have turned to ashes--and the flowers are dead.
"The summer's green and gold hath taken flight, October days have gone. Now bleached and white Winter doth come with many a lonely night.
"And though the people will not heed or stay, But pass with careless laughter on their way, Even I, with rain of tears, will wait and pray."
THE LILY-POND
On this little pool where the sunbeams lie, This tawny gold ring where the shadows die, God doth enamel the blue of His sky.
Through the scented dark when the night wind sighs, He mirrors His stars where the ripples rise, Till they glitter like prisoned fireflies.
'Tis here that the beryl-green leaves uncurl, And here the lilies uplift and unfurl Their golden-lined goblets of carven pearl.
When the grey of the eastern sky turns pink, Through the silver sedge at the pond's low brink The little lone field-mouse creeps down to drink.
And creatures to whom only God is kind, The loveless small things, the slow, and the blind, Soft steal through the rushes, and comfort find.
Oh, restless the river, restless the sea! Where the great ships go, and the dead men be; The lily-pond giveth but peace to me.
LILACS
In lonely gardens deserted--unseen-- Oh! lovely lilacs of purple and white, You are dipping down through a mist of green; For the morning sun's delight. And the velvet bee, all belted with black, Drinks deep of the wine which your flagons hold, Clings close to your plumes while he fills his pack With a load of burnished gold.
You hide the fences with blossoms of snow, And sweeten the shade of castle towers; Over low, grey gables you brightly blow, Like amethysts turned to flowers. The tramp on the highway--ragged and bold-- Wears you close to his heart with jaunty air; You rest in my lady's girdle of gold, And are held against her hair.
In God's own acre your tender flowers, Bend down to the grasses and seem to sigh For those who count time no more by hours-- Whose summers have all passed by-- But at eventide the south wind will sing, Like a gentle priest who chanteth a prayer; And thy purple censers he'll set a-swing, To perfume the twilight air.
APRIL
April! April! April! With a mist of green on the trees-- And a scent of the warm brown broken earth On every wandering breeze; What, though thou be changeful, Though thy gold turns to grey again, There's a robin out yonder singing, Singing in the rain.
April! April! April! 'Tis the Northland hath longed for thee, She hath gazed toward the South with aching eyes Full long and patiently. Come now--tell us, sweeting, Thou laggard so lovely and late, Dost know there's no joy like the joy that comes When hearts have learned to wait?
PAEANS
Oh! I will hold fast to Joy! I will not let him depart-- He shall close his beautiful rainbow wings And sing his song in my heart.
And I will live with Delight! I will know what the children know When they dance along with the April wind To find where the catkins grow!
I will dream the old, old dreams, And look for pixie and fay In shadowy woods--and out on the hills-- As we did but yesterday.
Love I will keep in my soul-- Ay! even by lock and key! There is nothing to fear in all of the world If Love will but stay with me.
No, I will not let Faith go! I will say with my latest
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