The Rainbow and the Rose | Page 4

musical silence to
mine ear.
The empty house calls not to me,
"Here, but for fate, were thou and
she--"
Its gibe for once is checked. To-night
Silence is queen in
grief's despite,
And even the longing of my soul
Is silent 'neath this
hour's control.
RAISON D'ETRE.

O WEARY night, O weary day,
When heart's delight is far away!
What is the day? A frame of blue
The vacant-glaring sun grins
through.
What is the night? A sable veil
Through which the moon
peers tired and pale.
O weary day! O weary night!
How far away is heart's delight!
Love hung the sun in his high place
To give me light to see her face,

And love spread out the veil of night
To hide us two from all men's
sight.
O kindly night, O pleasant day,
Your use is gone--why should ye stay?

My heart's delight is far away,
O weary night, O weary day.
THE ONLOOKER.
If I could make a pillow for your head,
Soft, pleasant, filled with
every pretty thought;
If I could lay a carpet where you tread
Of all
my life's most radiant fancies wrought,
And spread my love as
canopy above you,
Your sleep, your steps should know how much I
love you.
But--as life goes, to the old sorry tune--
I stand apart, I see thorns
wound your feet,
Your sleeping eyes resenting sun and moon,
Your
head lie restless on a breast unmeet--
And say no word, and suffer
without moan,
Lest you should guess how much you are alone.
THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE.
I PLUCKED the blossoms of delight
In many a wood and many a
field,
I made a garland fair and bright
As any gardens yield.
But when I sought the living tree
To make new earth and Heaven new,

I found--alas for you and me--
Its roots were set in you.

Oh, dear my garden, where the fruit
Of lovely knowledge sweetly
springs,
How jealously you guard the root
Of all enlightening
things!
AT PARTING.
AND you could leave me now--
After the first remembered
whispered vow
Which sings for ever and ever in my ears--
The vow
which God among His Angels hears--
After the long-drawn years,

The slow hard tears,
Could break new ground, and wake
A new
strange garden to blossom for your sake,
And leave me here alone,

In the old garden that was once our own?
How should I learn to bear
Our garden's pleasant ways and pleasant
air,
Her flowers, her fruits, her lily, her rose and thorn,
When only
in a picture these appear--
These, once alive, and always over-dear?

Ah--think again: the rose you used to wear
Must still be more than
other roses be
The flower of flowers. Ah, pity, pity me!
For in my acres is no plot of ground
Whereon could any garden site
be found,
I have but little skill
To water weed and till
And make
the desert blossom like the rose;
Yet our old garden knows
If I have
loved its ways and walks and kept
The garden watered, and the
pleasance swept.
Yet--if you must--go now:
Go, with my blessing filling both your
hands,
And, mid the desert sands
Which life drifts deep round every
garden wall,
Make your new festival
Of bud and blossom--red rose
and green leaf.
No blight born of my grief
Shall touch your garden,
love; but my heart's prayer
Shall draw down blessings on you from
the air,
And all we learned of leaf and plant and tree
Shall serve you
when you walk no more with me
In garden ways; and when with her
you tread

The pleasant ways with blossoms overhead
And when she
asks, "How did you come to know
The secrets of the ways these

green things grow?"
Then you will answer--and I, please God, hear,

"I had another garden once, my dear".
SONG.
I HEAR the waves to-night
Piteously calling, calling
Though the
light
Of the kind moon is falling,
Like kisses, on the sea
That
calls for sunshine, dear, as my soul calls for thee.
I see the sea lie gray
Wrinkling her brows in sorrow,
Hear her say:--

"Bright love of yesterday, return to-morrow,
Sun, I am thine, am
thine!"
Oh sea, thy love will come again, but what of mine?
RENUNCIATION.
ROSE of the desert of my heart,
Moon of the night that is my soul,

Thou can'st not know how sweet thou art,
Nor what wild tides thy
beams control.
For all thy heart a garden is,
Thy soul is like a dawn of May.
And
garden and dawn might both be his,
Who from them both must turn
away.
Oh, garden of the Spring's delight!
Oh, dewy dawn of perfect noon!

I will not pluck thy roses white
Or warm thy May-time into June.
I can but bless thee, moon and rose,
And journey far and very far

To where the night no moonbeam shows,
To where no happy roses
are!
III.
THE VEIL OF MAYA.
SWEET, I have loved before. I know
This longing that invades my
days;
This shape that haunts life's busy ways
I know since long and

long ago.
This starry mystery of delight
That floats across my eager eyes,

This pain that makes earth Paradise,
These magic songs of day and
night--
I know them for the things they are:
A passing pain, a longing fleet,

A shape that