This river wandered through an empty waste

Where no man's voice was heard, and mournful winds

Shook sighing sedges as they swept along,

And blurred the silver of the lonely moon.
Huts rose upon its banks, then sank in flame,
And rose from ashes. Slow the city grew,
Like coral reef on which the builders die

Until it stands complete in pain and death.

Great bridges with their coronets of lamps

Light the black stream beneath; rude ocean's flock,

Ships from all climes, are folded in its docks;

And every heart from its great central dome

To farthest suburb is a darkened stage

On which Grief walks alone. A thousand years!

The idle Summer will amuse herself

Dressing the front where merchants congregate,

And where the mighty war-horse snorts in bronze, With clasping flowers; where now the evening street Rolls gay with life,—in silence and the dew

The hamadryad issues from the tree,

N

Like music from an instrument."

How strange

When the chill morn was breaking in the east
Looked the familiar streets! In pallid squares

I stood awe-struck, like a bewildered soul

In the great dawn of death. Each house was blind, Closed 'gainst the light, and slow it filled the street, Unsoiled by smoke, unscared by any sound;

It entered trembling rude and haggard lanes Where riot but an hour before had brawled Himself to rest. St. Stephen's golden vane Burned in the early beam, which glimmered down, Making the old spire gay. The swallows woke, And jerked and twittered in the shining air; Broad Labour turned and muttered in his sleep;

And the first morning cart began to roll.

I saw a son weep o'er a mother's grave :

Ay, weep, poor boy-weep thy most bitter tears

That thou shalt smile so soon. We bury Love,

Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;

That is a thing to weep for, not the dead."
The weeks flew on and beautified my grief:
I stood within a torrent's drenching spray,
Up rose the sun, with happy eyes I saw
The sounding chasm struck with precious light,
The boiling wreaths transformed to sunny mist
On which an iris played. A little child
Watching the fringe of radiance o'er the hill,
Stops on its way and with suspended breath
Awaits the golden moon ;- -so did my life
Await some unknown joy. A haunting face
Disturbed me with its beauty, and at night

It looked upon me through the roof of dreams;
My heart like a touched harp-string thrilled, and bliss
Crept through my veins like that which stirs a tree
From knotted root up to its slenderest spray

Touched by the hand of Spring. One night alone

I sat beside the dull and covered fire,

And gave myself up to the phantom joy:

Methought I heard a sound, methought it came.

From my poor mother's room; I softly crept,

And listened; in the middle of the night

I heard her talk with God." Thou knowest well

That Sorrow has been with me like a babe

In my great solitude, till I have come

To love its smileless face. Thou, Love, who wrapt

Thyself in flesh, and sat awhile disguised
At the rude feast of our Humanity,

And tasted every sweet and bitter there,

Then rose and unsuspected went away ;

Who loved the humble ones at Bethany;
Who wept o'er Lazarus, and with thy tears
Comforted all the family of grief

In every time, in every far off land ;—

Thou, infinite Tenderness, wilt pardon me

If my heart murmured when my lips were still.

Our life is noble, Thou hast breathed its air;

Death sweet, for Thou hast died. On Thy way home

One night thou slept'st within the dreadful grave,

And took away its fear. Oh, smile on me!

The world and I have done with humble heart

:

I sit down at thy glorious gates and wait

Till death shall lead me in. But chiefly bless
My poor boy left alone in this ill world:

I never more may look upon his face,

May never hear his voice. Thou know'st him well, For every morning, long before the lark

Sang at Thy shining doors, my prayer arose

To crave Thy blessing on his restless youth.
It is the evening of my day of life,

I have been working from the early dawn,
Am sore and weary; let me go to sleep,—
Let me stretch out my limbs and be at rest
In the untroubled silence of the grave."

My heart swelled like a man's, who after years
Wasted in riot 'neath a tropic sky,

Returns, and wandering on a Sabbath-eve

Bursts into tears beside a twilight church,

Filled with a psalm which he knew long ago

When his heart too was pure.