The wind has borne them away, the light has drawn them,
New songs have gladdened their life in its dayspring
And I am left, a tender dove forgotten,
Beneath the Shechinah wing.

Alone, alone I am left. The Shechinah too
Her broken wing holds trembling o'er my head.
My heart discerns her heart; surely for me,
Her only son, is her dread.

From every corner she is driven forth,
Save one obscure and desolate recess —
The Beth Hamidrash — there in the shadows hid
I am with her in distress.

I.

While in England, here enisled in sweetness,
Year by year the girl-soft spirit of Spring
Weaves her primrose-crown to pure completeness,
Mixing silver stars the wood-nymphs bring;
While o'er daisied vale and cowslipped hollow
Year by year the white-fleeced clouds float by,
There are those who seeking for Apollo
Seek in vain, and deem that song must die.

II.

There are those who deem the land grows olden;

My son, where is thy soul?
" Wander on earth to seek it, angel of mine!
For there is a leafy village, walled by the woods,
With boundless azure firmament above,
And in the blue there rests its daughter fair —
A small white cloud and lone.
A child plays there alone on a summer morn,
Left to himself, a tender dreaming mite;
Angel, that child am I.

The world had wrapped itself away, so still,
And heavenwards the child's two eyes were drawn,
Forth went his soul, as a dove flies from its cote
To the sweet cloud in the sky. "

Have mercy, Love, and lull my sleepless pain
Nor leave my Muse's voice to cry in vain.
To-day thy bow, forgetting other hearts,
On me alone pours all its winged darts.
Even if you kill me, on my tomb you'll see
This epitaph — " Slain by Love's Cruelty ."

Your dark eyes win a glory
From every passing day;
The longer grows love's story,
The sweeter 'tis, I say!
We conquer Time together;
For every flower we've seen
Has passed into our kingdom,
And made you ten times Queen!

We win the wealth of summers;
We rob the winter days;
You're Queen in your fur tippet,
Queen of the fireside blaze.
Strong love defies all weather:
While you and I are one,
While we walk on together,
We always see the sun!

More beautiful and holy
You are to me, my Queen:

Love and Desire play the set,
My heart's the flying ball,
To Heliodore across the net
They send it, rise and fall.

Be heedful, sweetest; watch thy art
Nor mock me in my need;
To miss the stroke and lose my heart,
That were a fault indeed.

When I am dead, mourn thus for me and say:
There lived a man, and see, he is no more;
Timeless to death he went,
And in the middle day
His song of life was rent;
Ah! pity, for he had yet one song more,
And now that song is lost, and lost for aye.
Ah! pity, for he had a harp—a soul
To live and speak; and as the singer spanned
The secrets of his heart therewith, the strings
Spoke 'neath his hand.
But of his secrets one was hid in heart,
His fingers skimmed about it and around,
One string was left for dumb, and till this day

He, that goeth forth with weeping,
Bearing still the precious seed,
Never tiring, never sleeping,
Soon shall see his toil succeed:
Show'rs of rain will fall from heaven,
Then the cheering sun will shine,
So shall plenteous fruit be given,
Through an influence all divine.

Sow thy seed, be never weary,
Let not fear thy mind employ;
Though the prospect be most dreary,
Thou may'st reap the fruits of joy:
Lo! the scene of verdure bright'ning,
See the rising grain appear;
Look again! the fields are whit'ning,

The oak-trees whisper softly, and softly to me they say:
" Come, hide beneath our shadow, O Mortal, there decay!
This tomb, this heap of dust to thy pain and livelong grief —
Faithful to thee for ever — they will bring relief.
Die not so oft, for life with a thousand deaths is filled,
Die once, expire for ever, — rest peaceful and be stilled!
We'll dig thee softly over, smooth out the silent grave;
Thy half shall worms consume, but a half for sap we crave,
For by aid of all we thrive. Life endless shall be thine,

Along the beach where Love was born
Cleander strolled one summer morn
And saw his Nico swimming there
Breasting the waves with bosom bare.
He saw and burned: for strange to say
Water gave birth to fire that day,
And from the briny drops she threw
A parching flame within him grew.
She tossed the waves with dimpled arm
And shoreward turned nor knew of harm.
But he who on the dry land stayed
Most lamentable shipwreck made.
Yet all proved well. An equal love
Venus has sent them from above:
The boon he asked has granted been