To the beauty of earth that fades in ashes, The lips of welcome, and the eyes More beauteous than the feeble shine of Hesper Lone in the lightening skies: Till once again the Witch's guile entreat him; But, worn with wisdom, he Steadfast and cold shall choose the dark night's Inhospitality. HAUNTED The rabbit in his burrow keeps No guarded watch, in peace he sleeps; The wolf that howls in challenging night Cowers to her lair at morning light; The simplest bird entwines a nest Where she may lean her lovely breast, Couched in the silence of the bough. But thou, O man, what rest hast thou? Thy emptiest solitude can bring Only a subtler questioning In thy divided heart. Thy bed Recalls at dawn what midnight said. Seek how thou wilt to feign content, Thy flaming ardour's quickly spent; Soon thy last company is gone, And leaves thee--with thyself--alone. Pomp and great friends may hem thee round, A thousand busy tasks be found; Earth's thronging beauties may beguile Thy longing lovesick heart awhile; And pride, like clouds of sunset, spread A changing glory round thy head; But fade will all; and thou must come, Hating thy journey, homeless, home. Rave how thou wilt; unmoved, remote, That inward presence slumbers not, Frets out each secret from thy breast, Gives thee no rally, pause, nor rest, Scans close thy very thoughts, lest they Should sap his patient power away, Answers thy wrath with peace, thy cry With tenderest taciturnity. SILENCE With changeful sound life beats upon the ear; Yet, striving for release, The most seductive string's Sweet jargonings, The happiest throat's Most easeful, lovely notes Fall back into a veiling silentness. Even 'mid the rumour of a moving host, Blackening the clear green earth, Vainly 'gainst that thin wall The trumpets call, Or with loud hum The smoke-bemuffled drum: From that high quietness no reply comes forth. When, all at peace, two friends at ease alone Talk out their hearts,--yet still Between the grace-notes of The voice of love From each to each Trembles a rarer speech, And with its presence every pause doth fill. Unmoved it broods, this all-encompassing hush Of one who stooping near, No smallest stir will make Our fear to wake; But yet intent Upon some mystery bent Harkens the lightest word we say, or hear. WINTER DUSK Dark frost was in the air without, The dusk was still with cold and gloom, When less than even a shadow came And stood within the room. But of the three around the fire, None turned a questioning head to look, Still read a clear voice, on and on, Still stooped they o'er their book. The children watched their mother's eyes Moving on softly line to line; It seemed to listen too--that shade, Yet made no outward sign. The fire-flames crooned a tiny song, No cold wind moved the wintry tree; The children both in Faërie dreamed Beside their mother's knee.