there anything surer,On land or on sea,
To bring the God-Father
To you or to me?
LONGING
Through all this summer joy and rest,
Though lying on fair Nature's breast,
There breathes the longing heart's desire,
Would he were here!
The thrill of pain kind Nature feels;
For all the while there o'er me steals
Like holy chimes in midnight air,
"He'll soon be here."
And flowers and trees, vales, hills, and birds
Make haste to echo her glad words,
"He'll soon be here."
YOUNG LOVE'S MESSAGE
Sing too, little bird, what my heart sings to-day.
Dost thou know? —
I'll speak low —
"Oh, I do love him so."
Hold safe, waving grass, in thy rhythmical flow,
What I say,
Till the day
When as sweet new-mown hay
Thou can'st bear it to him in the fragrance loved best.
Thou dost fear? —
Oh, love dear,
How I wish thou wert here!
But pause, little cloud, thou canst carry it now,
I am sure,
Sweet and pure,
Though the winds do allure;
For thou art on the way to the west where he is.
But dost know? —
Tell him low,
"That I do love him so,
Oh! I do love him so."
A DIARY'S SECRET
God's love was once enough
My heart to satisfy,
When in the days of childhood's faith
I knew not doubt or sigh.
But since I saw Roy's face,
And knew his love's sweet cheer,
And felt the anguish and despair
Which come from partings here,
So hungry have I grown
No love can satisfy,
And all my childhood's faith in God
Doth mock me as a lie.
But still in these dark hours
I hold one anchor fast:
Perhaps this is the woman's way
To reach God's love at last.
The deepening years have proved
Love's conquest justified.
The woman's hungry heart at last
In God is satisfied.
A MONOLOGUE
Has Love come?
Ah, too late!
Already Death stands o'er me
With hungry eyes that bore me —
O cruel fate,
That after all life's years
Of sacrifice and tears,
'Tis Death, not Love, that wins.
But, stay! This message bear,
Ere yet Death's work begins:
"In other realms earth's losses
Will change from saddening crosses
To love-crowned joy,
Where Death shall have no mission,
But Love his sweet fruition
Without alloy."
A PRICELESS GIFT
'Twas much he asked – a virgin heart
Unknown to worldly ways.
What could he give? Ah, well he knew
He lacked sweet virtue's praise.
The virgin heart was given to him
Without a doubting thought,
When, lo! through seeming sacrifice
A miracle was wrought;
A miracle of love and grace,
Revealing woman's power;
For, clothed in purity, he rose
To meet the coming hour.
THE OCEAN'S MOAN
Last night the ocean's moan
Was to my ears
The deep sad undertone
Of vanished years,
Bearing a burden,
A bliss unattained,
A strife and a longing,
A life sad and pained,
To the shores vast and free
Of eternity's sea.
But in that undertone
Of restless pain,
Came at length a monotone
Of sweet refrain,
Bearing a passion
Long known to the sea —
Told in moments of silence
A sad heart to free —
To be borne me some day
In the ocean's own way.
And this rare monotone
Of mystery
Was now that passion-moan
Of secrecy,
Bearing, "I love her,
My moaning ne'er'll cease
Till she on my breast
Findeth love's perfect peace;
Till she on my breast
Findeth love's perfect rest."
Oh, is there tenderer tone
For mortal ear,
Than such a monotone,
Distinct and clear,
Bearing its comfort,
Its heavenly peace,
Its help for all sorrow,
Its heart-pain release,
To a soul waiting long
For love's tender, true song?
And now the ocean's moan
Is to my ears
The dearest undertone
Of all the years,
Bearing
