He halted in the wind, and — what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.

" Oh, that's the Paradise-in-Bloom, " I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
Had we but in us to assume in March
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.

We stood a moment so, in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year's leaves.

He had played for his lordship's levee,
He had played for her ladyship's whim,
Till the poor little head was heavy,
And the poor little brain would swim.

And the face grew peaked and eerie,
And the large eyes strange and bright,
And they said — too late — " He is weary!
He shall rest for, at least, To-night! "

But at dawn, when the birds were waking,
As they watched in the silent room,
With the sound of a strained cord breaking,
A something snapped in the gloom.

'T was a string of his violoncello,

He had no royal palace,
Only a stable bare.
He had no watchful servants,
An ox and ass stood there.
But light shone forth from where He lay;
The King of Love upon the hay!

He had been singing — but I had not heard his voice;
He had been weaving lovely dreams of song,
O many a morning long.
But I, remote and far,
Under an alien star,
Listened to other singers, other birds,
And other silver words.
But does the skylark, singing sweet and clear,
Beg the cold world to hear?
Rather he sings for very rapture of singing,
At dawn, or in the blue, mild Summer noon,
Knowing that, late or soon,
His wealth of beauty, and his high notes, ringing
Above the earth, will make some heart rejoice.

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength when the labors increase;
To added affliction He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance;
When our strength has failed e'er the day is half done;
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father's full giving is only begun.

His love has no limit, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus

He gave us all a good-bye cheerily
At the first dawn of day;
We dropped him down the side full drearily
When the light died away.
It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there,
And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there,
Where the Trades and the tides roll over him
And the great ships go by.

He's there alone with green seas rocking him
For a thousand miles round;
He's there alone with dumb things mocking him,
And we're homeward bound.
It's a long, lone watch that he's a-keeping there,

HE DREW a circle that shut me out—
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!

Say not, that in old age,
No joys, no pleasures dwell;
That it is but a page,
Which only sorrows tell.

Say not, in age we find
Nought but a wintry shore;
Round which the northern wind,
And raging ocean roar.

Say not, that like the tree
Scorch'd by the light'ning's wing;
That thus old age will be,
A sear'd and barren thing.

Say not, 'tis like the sun
Sinking in western skies;
When storm-clouds have begun
To shut him from our eyes.

O no, 'tis like the shore
Beneath Italian skies;

He did n't know much music
When first he come along;
An' all the birds went wonderin'
Why he did n't sing a song.

They primped their feathers in the sun,
An' sung their sweetest notes;
An' music jest come on the run
From all their purty throats!

But still that bird was silent
In summer time an' fall;
He jest set still an' listened,
An' he would n't sing at all!

But one night when them songsters
Was tired out an' still,
An' the wind sighed down the valley
An' went creepin' up the hill;

He deemed his task a solemn one,
And kneeled in sombre garb to pray;
Made much of symbols, ancient rites,
Of holy book and sacred day.

I, on the grass beneath the pine —
A pagan to my finger tips,
Accounting every flower divine,
Breathed incense from its petal lips.

And God, in His almighty love,
Knowing our need, and nothing loath,
Leaned kindly from His heavens above
And poured His blessing on us both.