IV. THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD. Upon a barren steep, Above a stormy deep, I saw an Angel watching the wild sea; Time was that stormy deep, 'Why dost thou watch the wave? The tide engulfs thee if thou dost delay.' Time not the Angel's grave, I wait until the ocean ebbs away.' Hushed on the Angel's breast I saw an Infant rest, O Angel, to thy breast?" 'Mine all upon the earth, • The Angel's angel-birth, Smiling each terror from the howling wild.' Never may I forget The dream that haunts me yet, Of Patience nursing Hope-the Angel and the Child. Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. 4. DIVIDED. An empty sky, a world of heather, We two walk till the purple dieth And short dry grass under foot is brown, Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it, A tiny bright beck that trickled between. Hand in hand while the sun peered over, Sing on! we sing in the glorious weather, The beck grows wider, the hands must sever. We move apart, while she singeth ever, He prays, 'Come over'-I may not follow; I cry 'Return'-but he cannot come : We speak, we laugh, but with voices hollow; No backward path; ah! no returning; Then cries of pain, and arms outreaching- The loud beck drowns them; we walk and weep. A yellow moon in splendour drooping, We two walk on in our grassy places A rose flush tender, a thrill, a quiver, When golden gleams to the tree-tops glide; A braver swell, a swifter sliding; The river hasteth, her banks recede: The tiny green ribbon that showed so fair. While, O my heart! as white sails shiver, And crowds are passing, and banks stretch wide, How hard to follow, with lips that quiver, That moving speck on the far-off side. Farther, farther-I see it-know it— it melts away: over, My eyes brim As I walk desolate day by day. And yet I know past all doubting, truly A knowledge greater than grief can dimI know, as he loved, he will love me dulyYea better-e'en better than I love him. And as I walk by the vast calm river, The awful river so dread to see, · I say Thy breadth and thy depth for ever Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.' Miss Ingelow. VI. NOW. Rise! for the day is passing, And you lie dreaming on; The others have buckled their armour, Rise from your dreams of the Future- Or bidding some giant yield; Rise! if the Past detains you, Her sunshine and storms forget; Rise! for the day is passing: The sound that you scarcely hear Stay not to sharpen your weapons, When, from dreams of a coming battle, Miss Procter. |