I shall spend an hour with thee Day by day, my little bride. True love laughs at mystery, Crying, "Doors of Death, fly wide." MARE RUBRUM In Life's Red Sea with faith I plant my feet, And wait the sound of that sustaining word Which long ago the men of Israel heard, When Pharaoh's host behind them, fierce and fleet, Raged on, consuming with revengeful heat. Why are the barrier waters still unstirred?-- That struggling faith may die of hope deferred? Is God not sitting in His ancient seat? The billows swirl above my trembling limbs, And almost chill my anxious heart to doubt And disbelief, long conquered and defied. But tho' the music of my hopeful hymns Is drowned by curses of the raging rout, No voice yet bids th' opposing waves divide! IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN In this old garden, fair, I walk to-day Heart-charmed with all the beauty of the scene: The rich, luxuriant grasses' cooling green, The wall's environ, ivy-decked and gray, The waving branches with the wind at play, The slight and tremulous blooms that show between, Sweet all: and yet my yearning heart doth lean Toward Love's Egyptian fleshpots far away. Beside the wall, the slim Laburnum grows And flings its golden flow'rs to every breeze. But e'en among such soothing sights as these, I pant and nurse my soul-devouring woes. Of all the longings that our hearts wot of, There is no hunger like the want of love! THE CRISIS A man of low degree was sore oppressed, Fate held him under iron-handed sway, And ever, those who saw him thus distressed Would bid him bend his stubborn will and pray. But he, strong in himself and obdurate, Waged, prayerless, on his losing fight with Fate. Friends gave his proffered hand their coldest clasp, Or took it not at all; and Poverty, That bruised his body with relentless grasp, Grinned, taunting, when he struggled to be free. But though with helpless hands he beat the air, His need extreme yet found no voice in prayer. Then he prevailed; and forthwith snobbish Fate, Like some whipped cur, came fawning at his feet; Those who had scorned forgave and called him great-- His friends found out that friendship still was sweet. But he, once obdurate, now bowed his head In prayer, and trembling with its import, said: "Mere human strength may stand ill-fortune's frown; So I prevailed, for human strength was mine; But from the killing pow'r of great renown, Naught may protect me save a strength divine. Help me, O Lord, in this my trembling cause; I scorn men's curses, but I dread applause!" THE CONQUERORS THE BLACK TROOPS IN CUBA