Enough for Him whom cherubim Worship night and day, A breastful of milk And a mangerful of hay. Enough for Him whom angels Fall down before, The ox and ass and camel Which adore. Angels and archangels May have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim Throng'd the air, But only His mother, In her maiden bliss. Worshipped the Beloved With a kiss. What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part; Yet what can I give Him? Give my heart. which, from beginning to end, has the very note of a Tuscan Adoration. This exquisite felicity did not continue. It could not be expected that it should. Miss Rossetti had always been capable in her writings of complete and unexpected failures; in many of her lyrics everything is there--style, feeling, harmony, but somehow the mood does not quicken into poetry. In later life she published an immense volume, the _Face of the Deep_, extending to over 550 pages, a devotional commentary on the "Apocalypse." This is written in uncouth and shapeless prose, as a rule; and though it has many suggestive and striking thoughts, and some images of exquisite beauty, yet it is a singular monument of failure. Scattered up and down in it are several hundred religious lyrics, which are never exactly commonplace, but seldom satisfactory. I venture to quote one, which may serve as a fair sample, p. 119, chap. iii. v. 10: Wisest of sparrows, that sparrow which sitteth alone Perched on the housetop, its own upper chamber, for nest. Wisest of swallows, that swallow which timely hath flown Over the turbulent sea to the land of its rest; Wisest of sparrows and swallows, if I were as wise! Wisest of spirits, that spirit which dwelleth apart, Hid in the Presence of God for a chapel and nest, Sending a wish and a will and a passionate heart Over the eddy of life to that Presence in rest, Seated alone and in peace till God bids it arise.