Beloved, you are like thread in the loom
woven into a flowering tree of love!
I am like the flowers on your robe:
the spring wind blows but they won't drop off.

Who was it, I pray,
On the wedding day
Of the Galilean's daughter
With a touch divine
Turned into wine
Six buckets of filtered water?

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.

The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro

Beloved friends! More glorious times than ours
Of old existed: men of loftier powers
Then we can boast have flourished: — who shall doubt it?
A million stones dug from the depths of Earth
Will bear this witness for the ancient worth,
If History's chronicles be mute about it.
But, all are gone — those richly-gifted souls —
That constellation of illustrious names:
For Us, for Us, the current moment rolls,
And We, We live, and have our claims.

My friends! The wanderer tells us — and we own —

Woe to the idle shepherd that leaveth his flock.

Zech. 11:7. With a just applause of those worthy divines that stay with us, 1665.

Beloved, and he sweetly thus goes on;
Now, where's Beloved? Why, Beloved's gone?
No morning matins now, nor evening song;
Alas! The parson cannot stay so long.
With Clerkenwell it fares as most in town,
The light-heeled Levite's broke and the spark flown.
Broke did I say? They ne'er had quit the place
Had they but set up with a spark of grace!
They did the pulpit as a coffin greet

The cinnabar cockerels sport resplendent hues,
Their paired spurs like tips of blades.
Ready to parade their blazing might,
They join in battle on this courtyard path.
Sharp claws test the jade steps,
Glaring eyes are infused with fiery light;
Long tail-feathers lift in a startling wind,
Hackle quills spread in display.
They spring and wield bent beaks,
Strike like lightning and again fly back.

Believe me, every hour e'en yet I dream
Of those in which I first revealed to thee
The tender secret of thy victory,
Perplexed in speech, yet daring in my theme.
Now thy designs unfathomable seem:
Since they consort not with such modesty,
Thou dost lament our love's degeneracy,
And thy desires too bold and sinful deem.
Mid flowery perfumes Oh here let us lie,
Cheek against cheek, at dusk beneath the trees,
Breast pressing close to breast and thigh to thigh.
Hark how the old elms rustle in the breeze!

INFALLIBILITY

" Believe in me, " the Prophet cried, —
" I hold the key of life and light: "
And, lo, one touched him, and he died
Within the passing of a night.

H OM -V EG

Hould on then, I tell ye! Do ye see yandhar wall,
You sniffikan' dirt, and the other as tall
Lek opposite lek, and sides like a sewer's,
A' puppus to stop such perseedin's as yours —
Masther D., that have built them, because he's intarmint
To bring you to raison, you bothersome varmint!
In a million of years you've stole a good fut
From the bank, yes you have. Aw, it's aisy to " chut "
And blackguard and give sauce. But I'll tell ye! look here!
It's just go'n a' stoppin'. What capers! Don' keer?

Behold yon new-born infant, griev'd
With hunger, thirst, and pain;
That asks to have the wants reliev'd,
It knows not to explain.

Aloud the speechless suppliant cries,
And utters, as it can,
The woes that in its bosom rise,
And speaks its nature man.

That infant, whose advancing hour
Life's various sorrows try,
(Sad proof of sin's transmissive power)
That infant, Lord, am I.

A childhood yet my thoughts confess,
Though long in years mature;
Unknowing whence I feel distress,
And where, or what its cure.