HOME AT LAST. HILD, do not fear; We shall reach our home to-night, And the waters bright; And the breezes have scarcely strength To unfold that little cloud, That like a shroud Spreads out its fleecy length; Then have no fear, As we cleave our silver way Fear not, my child! Though the waves are white and high, And the storm blows wild Through the gloomy sky; On the edge of the western sea, Is the haven bright Where home is awaiting thee. We shall rest from our stormy voyage Be not afraid; But give me thy hand, and see How the waves have made A cradle for thee. Night is come, dear, and we shall rest; So turn from the angry skies, And close thine eyes, And lay thy head on my breast: Child, do not weep; In the calm, cold, purple depths UNEXPRESSED. WELLS within the soul of every Artist More than all his effort can express; And he knows the best remains unut tered; Sighing at what we call his success. Vainly he may strive; he dare not tell us And the more devoutly that he listens, Still the more his soul must struggle vainly, Bowed beneath a noble discontent. No great Thinker ever lived, and taught you All the wonder that his soul received; No true Painter ever set on canvas All the glorious vision he conceived. No Musician ever held your spirit Charmed and bound in his melodious chains, But be sure he heard, and strove to render, Feeble echoes of celestial strains. No real Poet ever wove in numbers So with Love: for Love and Art united Love may strive, but vain is the endeavour Still its tenderest, truest secret lingers Ever in its deepest depths untold. Things of Time have voices: speak and perish. Art and Love speak—but their words must be Like sighings of illimitable forests, And waves of an unfathomable sea. BECAUSE. T is not because your heart is mine-mine only Mine alone; It is not because you chose me, weak and lonely, For your own; Not because the earth is fairer, and the skies Spread above you Are more radiant for the shining of your eyes- |