Faith

The spreading circle of the known,
That Science strives to bound with laws,
Is but a glowing sparkle thrown
From God, the radiant central cause.

His mystery is vaster far
Than knowledge is or e'er can be;
The wheel of Evolution's car
Rolls onward through eternity.

A stilly voice forever sounds
The lapses of our doubt between:

O Love, he went a-straying,
A long time ago!
I missed him in the Maying,
When blossoms were of snow;
So back I came by the old sweet way;
And for I loved him so,
I wept that he came not with me,
A long time ago!

Wide open stood my chamber door,
And one stepped forth to greet;
Gray Grief, strange Grief, who turned me sore
With words he spake so sweet.
I gave him meat, I gave him drink;
(And listened for Love's feet).
How many years? I cannot think;
In truth, I do not know —
A long time ago.

I

Thorns or flowers in life may be,
But the way Love leads is the way for me.

II

Never a question, never a fear
Under God's heaven, if Love be near.

III

Bitter the burdens of life, but still
I bear them meekly at Love's sweet will.

IV

Knowing that Love of life is Lord,
Not a rewarder, but a Reward!

Sweet Love, I cannot show thee in this guise
Of earthly words, how dear to me thou art,
Nor once compare thy image in my eyes
With thy dear self reposed within my heart.
The love I bear to thee I truly prize
Above all joys that offer in the mart
Of the wide world, our wishes to suffice, —
And yet I seek thy love; for no desert
That I can boast, but that my new love cries
For love that to its own excess is meet,
And searching widely through this dark world's space,
Hath found a love which hath its holy seat

Out in the weather, with the blooms and with the birds!
Set the sweetest music to the sweetest human words!
Ring, bells, ring!
And blossoms sway and swing!
For all the world is love, my dear, when all the world is spring.

Out in the weather, with the blossoms and the breeze,
The sunshine's gold and silver on the tresses o' the trees!
Ring, bells, ring!
While birds in music sing!
All the world is love, my dear, when all the world is spring!

Out in the weather — the weather fair and free!

I

Dear little fellow, don't forget —
Leaving you now, that I love you yet!
Just as I did in a far, fair day
When your eyes were light, and your smile was May,
In the beautiful — beautiful far-away!
Dear little fellow, don't forget —
Leaving you now, that I love you yet!

II

Dear little fellow, don't forget —
Leaving you now, that my eyes are wet
With tears for the years that may come to you
When the shadows darken your eyes of blue,
And the dreams are false where the dreams seemed true!

Sweetheart, 'twas sunshine, 'twas Summer — 'twas June!
The meadows were romping, the sky was at noon,
And we were two children together below it.
Ah, dear! could we ever be gladder and know it?

Then, dearest, came days when the Summer was dead;
The gaunt woodland cried to the gray overhead;
And who could have known, in young Maytime of weather,
Love's tenderest depth lies in mourning together?

To think that to the world this night may seem
Only the hours from sunset time to sleep —
This night, when love made real my dearest dream
And gave it me to keep!

That others have not known this strange white day
But let it pass like any other one,
While love-led, hand in hand, we found the way
Into the Land of Sun!

Oh, heart, dear heart, they have not seen nor known;
But evermore this one day stands apart
Glad, rare, and radiant — this one day alone
Deep shining in my heart!

She stood with the tall, painted turrets above her,
While I lingered and worshipped the boards where she trod —
From the rose in her hair to her instep I love her,
But what does she care for the love of a " god " ?
Ah, belle of the stage! if the gods should forsake you
Your bright star would fall like a stone from the sky;
You know 'tis the cheers of their godships that make you
And yet you begrudge them a blink from your eye.

While we sit in the darkness, and pay you our duty,
You give not e'en that which our worship demands;

WILD OR DOG ROSE .

She clasps no golden zone of pride,
Her fair and simple robe around —
By flowing riband, lightly tied,
Its graceful folds are bound:

And thus attired — a sportive thing,
Pure, loving, guileless, bright, and wild,
Proud Fashion! match me in your ring,
New England's mountain-child!