Verses | Page 9

called upon, must quit her God at the alter to find Him in her
domestic affairs."
--Legends of the Monastic Orders,
How infinite and sweet, Thou everywhere
And all abounding Love,
Thy service is!
Thou liest an ocean round my world of care,
My
petty every-day; and fresh and fair,
Pour Thy strong tides through all
my crevices,
Until the silence ripples into prayer.
That Thy full glory may abound, increase,
And so Thy likeness shall
be formed in me,
I pray; the answer is not rest or peace,
But charges,
duties, wants, anxieties,
Till there seems room for everything but
Thee,
And never time for anything but these.
And I should fear, but lo! amid the press,
The whirl and hum and
pressure of my day,
I hear Thy garment's sweep, Thy seamless dress,

And close beside my work and weariness
Discern Thy gracious
form, not far away,
But very near, O Lord, to help and bless.
The busy fingers fly, the eyes may see
Only the glancing needle
which they hold,
But all my life it, blossoming inwardly,
And every
breath is like a litany,
While through each labor, like a thread of gold,

Is woven the sweet consciousness of Thee.
EIGHTEEN.
Ah! grown a dim and fairy shade,
Dear child, who, fifteen years ago,

Out of our arms escaped and fled
With swift white feet, as if afraid,

To hide beneath the grass, the snow,
that sunny little head.
This is your birthday! Fair, so fair,
And grown to gracious

maiden-height,
And versed in heavenly lore and ways;

White-vested as the angels are,
In very light of very light,

Somehow, somewhere, you keep the day
With those new friends, whom "new" we call,
But who are dearer
now than we,
And better known by fate and name:
And do they
smile and say, "How tall
The child becomes, how radiant, she
Who
was so little when she came!"
Darling, we count your eighteen years,--
Fifteen in Heaven, on earth
but three,--
And try to frame you grown and wise:
But all in vain;
there still appears
Only the child you used to be,
Our baby with the
violet eyes.
OUTWARD BOUND,
A grievous day of wrathful winds,
Of low-hung clouds, which scud
and fly,
And drop cold rains, then lift and show
A sullen realm of
upper sky.
The sea is black as night; it roars
From lips afoam with cruel spray,

Like some fierce, many-throated pack
Of wolves, which scents and
chases prey.
Crouched in my little wind-swept nook,
I hear the menacing voices
call,
And shudder, as above the deck
Topples and swings the
weltering wall.
It seems a vast and restless grave,
Insatiate, hungry, beckoning

With dreadful gesture of command
To every free and living thing.
"O Lord," I cry, "Thou makest life
And hope and all sweet things to
be;
Rebuke this hovering, following Death,--
This horror never
born of Thee."
A sudden gleam, the waves light up
With radiant momentary hues,--


Amber and shadowy pearl and gold,
Opal and green and unknown
blues,--
And, rising on the tossing walls,
Within the foaming valleys swung,

Soft shapes of sea-birds, dimly seen,
Flutter and float and call their
young,
A moment; then the lowering clouds
Settle anew above the main,

The colors die, the waves rise higher,
And night and terror rule again.
No more I see the small, dim shapes,
So unafraid of wind and wave,

Nestling beneath the tempest's roar,
Cradled in what I deemed a
grave.
But all night long I lay and smiled
At thought of those soft folded
wings,
And trusting, with the trustful birds,
In Him who cares for
smallest things.
FROM EAST TO WEST.
The boat cast loose her moorings;
"Good-by" was all we said.

"Good-by, Old World," we said with a smile,
And never looked back
as we sped,
A shining wake of foam behind,
To the heart of the
sunset red.
Heavily drove our plunging keel
The warring waves between;

Heavily strove we night and day,
Against the west-wind keen,
Bent,
like a foe, to bar our path,--
A foe with an awful mien.
Never a token met our eyes
From the dear land far away;
No
storm-swept bird, no drifting branch,
To tell us where it lay.

Wearily searched we, hour by hour,
Through the mist and the driving
spray,
Till, all in a flashing moment,
The fog-veils rent and flew,
And a
blithesome south-wind caught the sails
And whistled the cordage

through,
And the stars swung low their silver lamps
In a dome of
airy blue,
And, breathed from unseen distances,
A new and joyous air

Caressed our senses suddenly
With a rapture fresh and rare.
"It is
the breath of home!" we cried;
"We feel that we are there."
O Land whose tent-roof is the dome
Of Heaven's, purest sky,

Whose mighty heart inspires the wind
Of glad, strong liberty,

Standing upon thy sunset shore,
Beside the waters high,
Long may thy rosy smile be bright;
Above the ocean din
Thy young,
undaunted voice be heard,
Calling the whole world kin;
And ever
be thy arms held out
To take the storm-tossed in!
UNA.
My darling once lived by my side,
She scarcely ever went away;

We shared our studies and our play,
Nor did she care to walk or ride

Unless I did the same that day.
Now she is gone to some far place;
I never see her any more,
The
pleasant play-times all