id="pgepubid00125"/>III.

Years upon years, as a watch by night that passes,
Pass, and the light of their eyes is fire that sears
Slowly the hopes of the fruit that life amasses
   Years upon years.

Pale as the glimmer of stars on moorland meres
Lighten the shadows reverberate from the glasses
Held in their hands as they pass among their peers.

Lights that are shadows, as ghosts on graveyard grasses,
Moving on paths that the moon of memory cheers,
Shew but as mists over cloudy mountain passes
   Years upon years.

TIME AND LIFE.

I.

Time, thy name is sorrow, says the stricken
Heart of life, laid waste with wasting flame
Ere the change of things and thoughts requicken,
   Time, thy name.

Girt about with shadow, blind and lame,
Ghosts of things that smite and thoughts that sicken
Hunt and hound thee down to death and shame.

Eyes of hours whose paces halt or quicken
Read in bloodred lines of loss and blame,
Writ where cloud and darkness round it thicken,
   Time, thy name.

II.

Nay, but rest is born of me for healing,
—So might haply time, with voice represt,
Speak: is grief the last gift of my dealing?
   Nay, but rest.

All the world is wearied, east and west,
Tired with toil to watch the slow sun wheeling,
Twelve loud hours of life’s laborious quest.

Eyes forspent with vigil, faint and reeling,
Find at last my comfort, and are blest,
Not with rapturous light of life’s revealing—
   Nay, but rest.

A DIALOGUE.

I.

Death, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
   Death, if thou wilt?

No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre’s heft or swordblade’s hilt.

Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
   Death, if thou wilt?

II.

Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion?  Nay, behold and see,
   Man, what art thou?

Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings?  Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.

Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
   Man, what art thou?

III.

Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
   Death, if thou be.

Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.

Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
   Death, if thou be.

PLUS ULTRA.

Far beyond the sunrise and the sunset rises
Heaven, with worlds on worlds that lighten and respond:
Thought can see not thence the goal of hope’s surmises
   Far beyond.

Night and day have made an everlasting bond
Each with each to hide in yet more deep disguises
Truth, till souls of men that thirst for truth despond.

All that man in pride of spirit slights or prizes,
All the dreams that make him fearful, fain, or fond,
Fade at forethought’s touch of life’s unknown surprises
   Far beyond.

A DEAD FRIEND.

I.

Gone, O gentle heart and true,
   Friend of hopes foregone,
Hopes and hopeful days with you
   Gone?

   Days of old that shone
Saw what none shall see anew,
   When we gazed thereon.

Soul as clear as sunlit dew,
   Why so soon pass on,
Forth from all we loved and knew
   Gone?

II.

Friend of many a season fled,
   What may sorrow send
Toward thee now from lips that said
   ‘Friend’?

   Sighs and songs to blend
Praise with pain uncomforted
   Though the praise ascend?

Darkness hides no dearer head:
   Why should darkness end
Day so soon, O dear and dead
   Friend?

III.

Dear in death, thou hast thy part
   Yet in life, to cheer
Hearts that held thy gentle heart
   Dear.

   Time and chance may sear
Hope with grief, and death may part
   Hand from hand’s clasp here:

Memory, blind with tears that start,
   Sees through every tear
All that made thee, as thou art,
   Dear.

IV.

True and tender, single-souled,
   What should memory do
Weeping o’er the trust we hold
   True?

   Known and loved of few,
But of these, though small their fold,
   Loved how well were you!

Change, that makes of new things old,
   Leaves one old thing new;
Love which promised truth, and told
   True.

V.

Kind as heaven, while earth’s control
   Still had leave to bind
Thee, thy heart was toward man’s whole
   Kind.

   Thee no shadows blind
Now: the change of hours that roll
   Leaves thy sleep behind.

Love, that hears thy death-bell toll
   Yet, may call to mind
Scarce a soul as thy sweet soul
   Kind.

VI.

How should life, O friend, forget
   Death, whose guest art thou?
Faith responds to love’s regret,
   How?

   Still, for us that bow
Sorrowing, still, though life be set,
   Shines thy bright mild brow.

Yea, though death and thou be met,
   Love may find thee now
Still, albeit we know not yet
   How.