Each moment some new birth hasten’d to deck the earth in the gay sunbeams. Between their kisses dreams: And dream and kiss were rife with laughter of mortal life. But this late day of golden fall is still as a picture upon a wall or a poem in a book lying open unread. Or whatever else is shrined when the Virgin hath vanishèd: Footsteps of eternal Mind on the path of the dead. THE FLOWERING TREE. What Fairy fann’d my dreams while I slept in the sun? As if a flowering tree were standing over me: Its young stem strong and lithe went branching overhead And willowy sprays around fell tasseling to the ground All with wild blossom gay as is the cherry in May When her fresh flaunt of leaf gives crowns of golden green. The sunlight was enmesh’d in the shifting splendour And I saw through on high to soft lakes of blue sky: Ne’er was mortal slumber so lapt in luxury. Rather--Endymion-- would I sleep in the sun Neath the trees divinely with day’s azure above When my love of Beauty is met by beauty’s love. So I slept enchanted under my loving tree Till from his late resting the sweet songster of night Rousing awaken’d me: Then! this--the birdis note-- Was the voice of thy throat which thou gav’st me to kiss. NOEL: CHRISTMAS EVE, 1913. _Pax hominibus bonæ voluntatis._ A frosty Christmas Eve when the stars were shining Fared I forth alone where westward falls the hill, And from many a village in the water’d valley Distant music reach’d me peals of bells aringing: The constellated sounds ran sprinkling on earth’s floor As the dark vault above with stars was spangled o’er. Then sped my thought to keep that first Christmas of all When the shepherds watching by their folds ere the dawn Heard music in the fields and marveling could not tell Whether it were angels or the bright stars singing. Now blessed be the tow’rs that crown England so fair That stand up strong in prayer unto God for our souls: Blessed be their founders (said I) an’ our country folk Who are ringing for Christ in the belfries to-night With arms lifted to clutch the rattling ropes that race Into the dark above and the mad romping din. But to me heard afar it was starry music Angels’ song, comforting as the comfort of Christ When he spake tenderly to his sorrowful flock: The old words came to me by the riches of time Mellow’d and transfigured as I stood on the hill Heark’ning in the aspect of th’ eternal silence. IN DER FREMDE.