BRAHMA'S ANSWER. ONCE, when the days were ages, Each question'd each to know Whence came the Heavens above, and whence the Earth below. Indra, the endless giver Of every gracious thing Of which they are the spring,— Ventures with Vivochunu where Brahma is apart. "Brahma! Supremest Being! By whom the worlds are made,— Of Life and Death afraid, Instruct us, for mankind, What is the body, Brahma! O Brahma! what the mind!" Hearing as though he heard not, So perfect was his rest, So vast the Soul that err'd not, His hand upon his breast He laid, whereat his face Was mirror'd in the river that girt that holy Place! They question'd each the other What Brahma's answer meant. Said Vivochunu-" Brother! Hath spoken her intent: Man ends as he began— The shadow on the water is all there is of Man!" "The Earth with woe is cumber'd, And no man understands; Nor stay'd his dreadful hands. I see with Brahma's eyes, The body is the shadow that on the water lies." Thus Indra, looking deeper, The hand on Brahma's breast Covering the soul that dies not. This is what Brahma Never lived a man They have not betray'd. Safely housed with her, THE DYING LOVER. THE grass that is under me now You may walk this way again UNDER THE ROSE. SHE wears a rose in her hair, At the twilight's dreamy close: I steal like a shadow there, She takes the rose from her hair, And I, ELIZABETH DREW BARSTOW STODDARD. Born at Mattapoisett, Mass: 1823. A SUMMER NIGHT. I FEEL the breath of the Summer Night, The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir The white moths flutter about the lamp, And a thousand creatures softly sing But I am alone, and how can I sing Come, Night! unveil the beautiful soul MERCEDES. UNDER a sultry, yellow sky, The crinkled vapours smite my brain, Above the crags the condor flies,- Mercedes in her hammock swings,- ELIZABETH DREW BARSTOW STODDARD. Her lips are like this cactus cup,— I tear its flaming leaves apart: Last night a man was at her gate: I waited till the break of day, ON THE CAMPAGNA. STOP on the Appian Way, The tomb of Cecilia Metella! Alaric saw it, ages ago, Beneath these battlements My bones were stirr'd with Roman pride, When Rome commanded the earth Great were the Metelli: I was Metullus' wife; I loved him, and I died. Then with slow patience built he this memorial : S 257 |