Two at a Fireside

I built a chimney for a comrade old,

I did the service not for hope or hire And then I traveled on in winter's cold, Yet all the day I glowed before the fire.

The Butterfly

O winged brother on the harebell, stay
Was God's hand very pitiful, the hand
That wrought thy beauty at a dream's demand?
Yea, knowing I love so well the flowery way,
He did not fling me to the world astray.
He did not drop me to the weary sand,
But bore me gently to a leafy land:
Tinting my wings, He gave me to the day.

Oh, chide no more my doubting, my despair!
I will go back now to the world of men.
Farewell, I leave thee to the world of air,

Yet thou hast girded up my heart again;
For He that framed the impenetrable plan,
And keeps His word with thee, will keep with

man.

A

To William Watson

After reading "The Purple East."

That hour you put the wreath of England by
To shake her guilty heart with song sublime,
The mighty Muse that watches from the sky
Laid on your head the larger wreath of Time.

Keats A-Dying

Often of that Last Hour I lie and think;

I see thee, Keats, nearing the Deathway dimSee Severn in his noiseless hurry, him

Who leaned above thee fading on the brink.

What is that wild light through the window chink?

Is it the burning feet of cherubim ?

Or is it the white moon on western rim Saint Agnes' moon beginning now to sink?

How did Death come- with sounds of waterstir?

With forms of beauty breaking at the lips? With field pipes and the scent of blowing fir? Or came it hurrying like a last eclipse, Sweeping the world away like gossamer, Blotting the moon,

the mountains, and the ships?

Man

Out of the deep and endless universe
There came a greater Mystery, a Shape,
A Something sad, inscrutable, august-

One to confront the worlds and question them.