BONDAGE

THE BURDEN OF LOVE

"At last

I tread free soil, the free air blows on me;' And, wild to learn the sweets of liberty, With eager hope his bosom bounded fast. But not for naught had the long years amassed

Habit of slavery; among the free

He still was servile, and, disheartened, he Crept back to the old bondage of the past. Long did I bear a hard and heavy chain Wreathed with amaranth and asphodel, But through the flower-breaths stole the weary pain.

I cast it off and fled, but 't was in vain; For when once more I passed by where it fell,

I took it up and bound it on again.

Waking or sleeping I can never thrust The load aside; through summer's heat and dust

And winter's snows it still abides with

me.

I cannot let it fall, though I should be
Never so weary; carry it I must.

Nor can the bands that bind it on me rust

Or break, nor ever shall I be set free. Sometimes 't is heavy as the weight that bore

Atlas on giant shoulders; sometimes light As the frail message of the carrier dove; But, light or heavy, shifting nevermore. What is it thus oppressing, day and night? The burden, dearest, of a mighty love.

A SONG OF TWO ANGELS

Two angels came through the gate of Heaven.

(White and soft is a mother's breast!)

Stayed them both by the gate of Heaven; Rested a little on folded wings,

Spake a little of holy things.
(In Heaven alone is perfect rest!)

Over them rose the golden steeps,
Heaven's castled and golden steeps;
Under them, depth on depth of space
Fell away from the holy place.

"Brother, and now I must take my way,
Glad and joyful must take my way,
Down to the realm of day and night;
Down to yon earth that rolls so bright."

"Brother, I too am thither sent; Sad and silent, am thither sent. Let us together softly wing

Our flight to yon world of sorrowing."

Down they swept through the shining air,
Swiftly sped through the shining air,
This one bright as the sunset's glow,
That one white as the falling snow.

"Brother, and tell me your errand now! Tell me your joyful errand now!" "A little new soul must wake on earth, And I carry the blessing for its birth."

"And tell me, brother, what task is yours?
Dear white angel, what task is yours?"
"To bear a soul back to Heaven's height, -
A mother, whose child is born to-night."

"Ah! will the mother be sad to go? ?
Loath to leave her baby and go ?"
"Hush, dear angel! she will not know.
God in His mercy wills it so."

"Ah! will the baby wake forlorn ? Seek its mother, and weep forlorn ?" "Hush, dear angel! we may not know. God, knowing all things, wills it so."

Down they swept through the dusky air,
Swiftly sped through the dusky air;
Trod the dim earth with noiseless feet;
Softly stole through a village street.

Now they came to a cottage door,
Stayed them both at a cottage door,
This one bright as the sunset's glow,
That one white as the falling snow.

WHITE sand and cedars; cedars, sand;
Light-houses here and there; a strand
Strewn o'er with driftwood; tangled weeds;
A squad of fish-hawks poised above
The nets, too anxious-eyed to move;
Flame-flowering cactus; winged seeds,
That on a sea of sunshine lie
Unfanned, save by some butterfly;
A sun now reddening toward the west;-
And under and through all one hears
That mellow voice, old as the years,
The waves' low monotone of unrest.
So wanes the summer afternoon
In drowsy stillness, and the moon
Appears; when, sudden, round about

The wind-cocks wheel, hoarse fog-horns shout

A warning, and in gathering gloom
Against the sea's white anger loom
Tall shapes of wreckers, torch in hand,
Rattling their life-boats down the sand!

THE HANDSEL RING

"HERE, O lily-white lady mine,
Here by thy warrior sire's own shrine,
Handsel I thee by this golden sign,
This sunshiny thing."

Weeping she reached her hand so slim, Smiled, though her eyes were wet and dim,

GARDEN AND CRADLE

WHEN our babe he goeth walking in his garden,

Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play;

The posies they are good to him, And bow them as they should to him, As fareth he upon his kingly way;

And birdlings of the wood to him Make music, gentle music, all the day, When our babe he goeth walking in his garden.

When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle,

Then the night it looketh ever sweetly down;

The little stars are kind to him, The moon she hath a mind to him, And layeth on his head a golden crown; And singeth then the wind to him A song, the gentle song of Bethle'm town, When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle.

IN THE FIRELIGHT

THE fire upon the hearth is low,

And there is stillness everywhere, And, like winged spirits, here and there The firelight shadows fluttering go. And as the shadows round me creep,

A childish treble breaks the gloom, And softly from a further room Comes: "Now I lay me down to sleep."

And, somehow, with that little prayer

And that sweet treble in my ears, My thought goes back to distant years, And lingers with a dear one there;

And my little one hears in the kindly sound
The voice of the old mill speak.
While round and round those big white
wings

Grimly and ghostlike creep,

My little one hears that the old mill sings Sleep, little tulip, sleep!"

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