Legends and Lyrics Volume I Part 14

VERSE: A FAREWELL

Farewell, oh dream of mine!

I dare not stay; The hour is come, and time Will not delay: Pleasant and dear to me Wilt thou remain; No future hour Brings thee again.

She stands, the Future dim, And draws me on, And shows me dearer joys-- But thou art gone!

Treasures and Hopes more fair, Bears she for me, And yet I linger, Oh dream, with thee!

Other and brighter days, Perhaps she brings; Deeper and holier songs, Perchance she sings; But thou and I, fair time, We too must sever-- Oh dream of mine, Farewell for ever!

VERSE: SOWING AND REAPING

Sow with a generous hand; Pause not for toil or pain; Weary not through the heat of summer, Weary not through the cold spring rain; But wait till the autumn comes For the sheaves of golden grain.

Scatter the seed, and fear not, A table will be spread; What matter if you are too weary To eat your hard-earned bread: Sow, while the earth is broken, For the hungry must be fed.

Sow;--while the seeds are lying In the warm earth's bosom deep, And your warm tears fall upon it-- They will stir in their quiet sleep; And the green blades rise the quicker, Perchance, for the tears you weep.

Then sow;--for the hours are fleeting, And the seed must fall to-day; And care not what hands shall reap it, Or if you shall have pa.s.sed away Before the waving corn-fields Shall gladden the sunny day.

Sow; and look onward, upward, Where the starry light appears-- Where, in spite of the coward's doubting, Or your own heart's trembling fears, You shall reap in joy the harvest You have sown to-day in tears.

VERSE: THE STORM

The tempest rages wild and high, The waves lift up their voice and cry Fierce answers to the angry sky,-- Miserere Domine.

Through the black night and driving rain, A s.h.i.+p is struggling, all in vain To live upon the stormy main;-- Miserere Domine.

The thunders roar, the lightnings glare, Vain is it now to strive or dare; A cry goes up of great despair,-- Miserere Domine.

The stormy voices of the main, The moaning wind, and pelting rain Beat on the nursery window pane:- Miserere Domine.

Warm curtained was the little bed, Soft pillowed was the little head; "The storm will wake the child," they said:- Miserere Domine.

Cowering among his pillows white He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright, "Father, save those at sea to-night!"

Miserere Domine.

The morning shone all clear and gay, On a s.h.i.+p at anchor in the bay, And on a little child at play,-- Gloria tibi Domine!

VERSE: WORDS

Words are lighter than the cloud-foam Of the restless ocean spray; Vainer than the trembling shadow That the next hour steals away.

By the fall of summer raindrops Is the air as deeply stirred; And the rose-leaf that we tread on Will outlive a word.

Yet, on the dull silence breaking With a lightning flash, a Word, Bearing endless desolation On its blighting wings, I heard: Earth can forge no keener weapon, Dealing surer death and pain, And the cruel echo answered Through long years again.

I have known one word hang starlike O'er a dreary waste of years, And it only shone the brighter Looked at through a mist of tears; While a weary wanderer gathered Hope and heart on Life's dark way, By its faithful promise, s.h.i.+ning Clearer day by day.

I have known a spirit, calmer Than the calmest lake, and clear As the heavens that gazed upon it, With no wave of hope or fear; But a storm had swept across it, And its deepest depths were stirred, (Never, never more to slumber,) Only by a word.

I have known a word more gentle Than the breath of summer air; In a listening heart it nestled, And it lived for ever there.

Not the beating of its prison Stirred it ever, night or day; Only with the heart's last throbbing Could it fade away.

Words are mighty, words are living: Serpents with their venomous stings, Or bright angels, crowding round us, With heaven's light upon their wings: Every word has its own spirit, True or false, that never dies; Every word man's lips have uttered Echoes in G.o.d's skies.

VERSE: A LOVE TOKEN

Do you grieve no costly offering To the Lady you can make?

One there is, and gifts less worthy Queens have stooped to take.

Take a Heart of virgin silver, Fas.h.i.+on it with heavy blows, Cast it into Love's hot furnace When it fiercest glows.

With Pain's sharpest point transfix it, And then carve in letters fair, Tender dreams and quaint devices, Fancies sweet and rare.

Set within it Hope's blue sapphire, Many-changing opal fears, Blood-red ruby-stones of daring, Mixed with pearly tears.

And when you have wrought and laboured Till the gift is all complete, You may humbly lay your offering At the Lady's feet.

Should her mood perchance be gracious-- With disdainful smiling pride, She will place it with the trinkets Glittering at her side.

VERSE: A TRYST WITH DEATH

I am footsore and very weary, But I travel to meet a Friend: The way is long and dreary, But I know that it soon must end.

He is travelling fast like the whirlwind, And though I creep slowly on, We are drawing nearer, nearer, And the journey is almost done.

Through the heat of many summers, Through many a springtime rain, Through long autumns and weary winters, I have hoped to meet him, in vain.