In human thought have all things habitation; Our days Laugh, lower, and lighten past, and find no station That stays. But thought and faith are mightier things than time Can wrong, Made splendid once with speech, or made sublime By song. Remembrance, though the tide of change that rolls Wax hoary, Gives earth and heaven, for song's sake and the soul's, Their glory. _July 16, 1885._ THE RECALL Return, they cry, ere yet your day Set, and the sky grow stern: Return, strayed souls, while yet ye may Return. But heavens beyond us yearn; Yea, heights of heaven above the sway Of stars that eyes discern. The soul whose wings from shoreward stray Makes toward her viewless bourne Though trustless faith and unfaith say, Return. BY TWILIGHT If we dream that desire of the distance above us Should be fettered by fear of the shadows that seem, If we wake, to be nought, but to hate or to love us If we dream, Night sinks on the soul, and the stars as they gleam Speak menace or mourning, with tongues to reprove us That we deemed of them better than terror may deem. But if hope may not lure us, if fear may not move us, Thought lightens the darkness wherein the supreme Pure presence of death shall assure us, and prove us If we dream. A BABY'S EPITAPH April made me: winter laid me here away asleep. Bright as Maytime was my daytime; night is soft and deep: Though the morrow bring forth sorrow, well are ye that weep. Ye that held me dear beheld me not a twelvemonth long: All the while ye saw me smile, ye knew not whence the song Came that made me smile, and laid me here, and wrought you wrong. Angels, calling from your brawling world one undefiled, Homeward bade me, and forbade me here to rest beguiled: Here I sleep not: pass, and weep not here upon your child. ON THE DEATH OF SIR HENRY TAYLOR Fourscore and five times has the gradual year Risen and fulfilled its days of youth and eld Since first the child's eyes opening first beheld Light, who now leaves behind to help us here Light shed from song as starlight from a sphere Serene as summer; song whose charm compelled The sovereign soul made flesh in Artevelde To stand august before us and austere, Half sad with mortal knowledge, all sublime With trust that takes no taint from change or time, Trust in man's might of manhood. Strong and sage, Clothed round with reverence of remembering hearts, He, twin-born with our nigh departing age, Into the light of peace and fame departs. IN MEMORY OF JOHN WILLIAM INCHBOLD