In the carriage mostly come my born relations,
Very keen to see me in the rural season;

Board and bedding gratis, compliments at parting: "Come again next summer."

Oh! if one I knew of hastened down the high-road,
Like a heaven-sent angel, present to petition,
Would I sit searching thy disjointed meanings,
Horace the Dainty?

Should I not then fling far the well-bound volume, Decent in sheep-skins thou wert never blest with? For this heart of mine, high leaping, wild rejoicing,

Then would be the poet.

A DREAM.

A WOMAN came, wearing a veil ;

Her features were burning and pale;

At the door of the shrine doth she kneel,

And waileth out, bowing her head,

"Ye men of remembrance and dread, Exorcise the pangs that I feel.

A boat that is torn with the tide,

A mountain with flame in its side
That rends its devouring way,

A feather the whirlwind lifts high,
Are not wilder or weaker than I,
Since Love makes my bosom his prey.

Ye Saints, I fall down at your feet;
Thou Virgin, so piteous to greet,
Reach hither the calm of your hands;
Ye statues of power and of art,

Let

your marble weight lie on my heart, Hold my madness with merciful bands."

The priest takes his candle and book
With the pity of scorn in his look,

And chants the dull Mass through his teeth;
But the penitent, clasping his knees,

Cries, "Vain as the sough of the breeze

Are thy words to the anguish of death."

The priest, with reproval and frown,
Bids the listless attendant reach down
The water that sprinkles from sin.
"Your water is water," she cries:
"The further its foolishness flies,

The fiercer the flames burn within."

"Get thee hence to the cell and the scourge!"

The priest in his anger doth urge,

"Or the fire of the stake thou shalt prove, Maintaining with blasphemous tongue

That the mass-book and censer, high swung, Cannot cast out the demon of Love."

Then the Highest stept down from his place,
While the depths of his wonderful face
The thrill of compassion did move :

"Come, hide thee," he cried, "in this breast; I summon the weary to rest;

With love I exorcise thy love."

WAKING.

SOFT as the touch of twilight that restores

The hard-bound earth from summer sweat and strain,
This dream of morning soothed my fevered soul,
And gave me to my gentleness again.

So, bathed in pearly sweets, I oped mine eyes,
And saw the beauty that the morning paints,
And saw the shadows strengthen in the sun
With the calm willingness of dying saints.

Oh! had I then to passion died, such peace
Had filled my parting as transfigures Death;
But thou didst turn me backward with a word,
And Love celestial fled Love's human breath.