Produced by Al Haines [Frontispiece: Elizabeth Stuart Phelps] SONGS OF THE SILENT WORLD _AND OTHER POEMS_ BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS BOSTON HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1885 Copyright, 1884, BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS. _All rights reserved._ _The Riverside Press, Cambridge:_ Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. _Dear! Is the distance vast? I cross it here. The chasm fathomless? I span it thus. The silence dread? I break it. What is fear? When only our own hearts can sever us._ _The gold and frankincense I should have given, Envy the myrrh I lay within your hand; Dearer to me than fame of earth or heaven It is, to know that you will understand._ CONTENTS. I. Afterward Released The Room's Width The First Christmas Apart The Angel Joy "Absent!" The Unseen Comrades Stronger than Death II. Vittoria New Neighbors By the Hearth Told in Confidence What the Violins Said Won Spent Parted An April Gust The Answer Thorns The Indian Girl Sealed Guinevere Sung to a Friend Incompletion Rafe's Chasm Galatea Part of the Price Eurydice Elaine and Elaine III. The Poet and the Poem Overtasked Stranded Gloucester Harbor The Terrible Test My Dreams are of the Sea Song An Interpretation The Sphinx Victoræ Salutamus The Ermine Unquenched The King's Image IV. At the Party A Jewish Legend V. The Songs of Seventy Years Birthday Verses A Tribute To O. W. H. Whose shall the Welcome be? Exeat George Eliot Her Jury VI. A Prayer. (Matins.) An Acknowledgment Hymn Answered Westward Three Friends A New Friend An Etching To my Father The Gates Between A Prayer. (Vespers.) I. SONGS OF THE SILENT WORLD. AFTERWARD. There _is_ no vacant chair. The loving meet-- A group unbroken--smitten, who knows how? One sitteth silent only, in his usual seat; We gave him once that freedom. Why not now? Perhaps he is too weary, and needs rest; He needed it too often, nor could we Bestow. God gave it, knowing how to do so best. Which of us would disturb him? Let him be. There is no vacant chair. If he will take The mood to listen mutely, be it done. By his least mood we crossed, for which the heart must ache, Plead not nor question! Let him have this one. Death is a mood of life. It is no whim By which life's Giver mocks a broken heart. Death is life's reticence. Still audible to Him, The hushed voice, happy, speaketh on, apart. There is no vacant chair. To love is still To have. Nearer to memory than to eye, And dearer yet to anguish than to comfort, will We hold him by our love, that shall not die.