Again I stood beneath that tree When the fields were full of sheaves; But now it mattered not to me What said the poplar leaves; For one stood with me 'neath the moon, As they dropped their whispers low, From whom I gained that precious boon, The word I longed to know. LINES SUGGESTED BY A WAKEFUL NIGHT. Oh sleep, where art thou? I could chide thee now That truant-like thou'rt absent from thy place; Or e'en could call thee by a harsher name, Deserter; yet I will not brand thee thus. Oh! wherefore dost thou leave me? Haste and come, That in thy presence I forget all else. Except thou grant me from thy precious store Some lovely dream of joy; that, like a child, Lies folded to thy breast, but which thou canst At will send forth to wander here or there, Bearing some wondrous message on its way. Are such dreams thine? scarce know I whence they are, Yet sleep in sober earnest, I believe They are not truly thine, but dwell above In worlds of light where thou art all unknown. Yet hold they here strange intercourse with thee, So that thy soft'ning veil is o'er them thrown, And a mist in part doth dim their brightness, And dull the melody of their sweet voice. While, in the language of their home, they tell Of its joy and beauty, bidding our souls, As treasures, keep the whispers which they bring. For though their sweet voice muffled be and low, And though thy dewy mist enfold them, Yet speak they truly with such heavenly power, That in the joy and light of such a presence Doth the spirit see this world, and heaven To be more near than ofttimes we can tell In the movements of our life; when the links Uniting both, by us are left untraced; While sad and weary we do often mourn Their dreary distance, since our faithless hearts Will sunder them so far, then cannot rest In the sever'd world they make unto themselves, Since that they are inheritors of both. And He who dwelt on earth, to prove with power That both these worlds were one, meeting in Him, Since by His mighty will of love He came To link again upon the Cross the chain Which should so closely evermore have bound them, Which, save for Him, had utterly been sever'd, He hath said, for every age to hear, Within is the Kingdom of God; blest truth, Within; and yet we look afar and gaze Around in search of somewhat we call heaven, And oft perchance thinking 'tis found, rejoice, But soon in sadness is the quest renewed. For that we seek a kingdom of our own, No hope than this more utterly forlorn, We have no kingdom and we cannot reign, In serving only can we find our life And perfect freedom, the true life of kings. But whom to serve we may, nay needs must, choose;