III. IN THE DOORWAY. 1. THE swallow has set her six young on the rail, And looks sea-ward: The water's in stripes like a snake, olive-pale On the weather-side, black, spotted white with the wind: 2. Our fig-tree, that leaned for the saltness, has furled Her five fingers, Each leaf like a hand opened wide to the world Where there lingers No glint of the gold, Summer sent for her sake: How the vines writhe in rows, each impaled on its stake! My heart shrivels up, and my spirit shrinks curled. 3. Yet here are we two; we have love, house enough, This house of four rooms, that field red and rough, For the rabbit that robs, scarce a blade or a bent; And they both will be gone at November's rebuff. 4. But why must cold spread? but wherefore bring change To the spirit, God meant should mate His with an infinite range, And inherit His power to put life in the darkness and cold? Oh, live and love worthily, bear and be bold! Whom Summer made friends of, let Winter estrange! IV. ALONG THE BEACH. 1. I WILL be quiet and talk with you, You wanted my love—is that much true? What has come of it all along? I took you 2. - how could I otherwise? For a world to me, and more; For all, love greatens and glorifies Till God's a-glow, to the loving eyes, In what was mere earth before. Yes, earth, 3. yes, mere ignoble earth! Now do I mis-state, mistake? Do I wrong your weakness and call it worth? Expect all harvest, dread no dearth, Seal my sense up for your sake? 4. Oh, love, love, no, love! not so, indeed! But a little good grain too. 5. And such as you were, I took you for mine: Did not you find me yours, To watch the olive and wait the vine, And wonder when rivers of oil and wine Would flow, as the Book assures ? 6. Well, and if none of these good things came, The man was my whole world, all the same, With his flowers to praise, or his weeds to blame, And, either or both, to love. 7. Yet this turns now to a fault-there! there! That I do love, watch too long, And wait too well, and weary and wear; Fit subject for some new song: |