The sailor praying on his knees And spare his mate that's cursing God; How babes and widows starve and freeze, Yet Nature will not stir a clod; Why Nature blinds us in each act Yet makes no law in mercy bend, No pitfall from our feet retract, No storm cry out `Take shelter, friend;' Why snakes that crawl the earth should ply Rattles, that whoso hears may shun, While serpent lightnings in the sky, But rattle when the deed is done; How truth can e'er be good for them That have not eyes to bear its strength, And yet how stern our lights condemn Delays that lend the darkness length; To know all things, save knowingness; To grasp, yet loosen, feeling's rein; To waste no manhood on success; To look with pleasure upon pain; Though teased by small mixt social claims, To lose no large simplicity, And midst of clear-seen crimes and shames To move with manly purity; To hold, with keen, yet loving eyes, Art's realm from Cleverness apart, To know the Clever good and wise, Yet haunt the lonesome heights of Art; O Psalmist of the weak, the strong, O Troubadour of love and strife, Co-Litanist of right and wrong, Sole Hymner of the whole of life, I know not how, I care not why, Thy music brings this broil at ease, And melts my passion's mortal cry In satisfying symphonies. Yea, it forgives me all my sins, Fits life to love like rhyme to rhyme, And tunes the task each day begins By the last trumpet-note of Time. ____ 1876-7. An Frau Nannette Falk-Auerbach. Als du im Saal mit deiner himmlischen Kunst Beethoven zeigst, und seinem Willen nach Mit den zehn Fingern fuehrst der Leute Gunst, Zehn Zungen sagen was der Meister sprach. Schauend dich an, ich seh', dass nicht allein Du sitzest: jetzt herab die Toene ziehn Beethovens Geist: er steht bei dir, ganz rein: Fuer dich mit Vaters Stolz sein' Augen gluehn: Er sagt, "Ich hoerte dich aus Himmelsluft, Die kommt ja naeher, wo ein Kuenstler spielt: Mein Kind (ich sagte) mich zur Erde ruft: Ja, weil mein Arm kein Kind im Leben hielt, Gott hat mir dich nach meinem Tod gegeben, Nannette, Tochter! dich, mein zweites Leben!" ____ Baltimore, 1878. To Nannette Falk-Auerbach. Oft as I hear thee, wrapt in heavenly art, The massive message of Beethoven tell With thy ten fingers to the people's heart As if ten tongues told news of heaven and hell, -- Gazing on thee, I mark that not alone, Ah, not alone, thou sittest: there, by thee, Beethoven's self, dear living lord of tone, Doth stand and smile upon thy mastery. Full fain and fatherly his great eyes glow: He says, "From Heaven, my child, I heard thee call (For, where an artist plays, the sky is low): Yea, since my lonesome life did lack love's all, In death, God gives me thee: thus, quit of pain, Daughter, Nannette! in thee I live again." ____ Baltimore, 1878. To Our Mocking-Bird. Died of a cat, May, 1878. I.