II. O pitiless eyes, you burn unto my soul, Each one a living coal From off Love’s altar! Fall, O silken lashes, And shade me, like a screen, from their control, Ere all my warm delight be turned to ashes! III. Oh, no! I cannot bear the shade. Burn on, And let me slowly perish with sweet fire, Myself at once the victim and the pyre,-- I die of cold when that dear heat is gone. WHEN THE SPRING-TIME COMES. I. “When the Spring-time comes”-- So we say in wintry hours; And we look upon the snow, While we think upon the flowers. And we gaze till hope’s bright glory is kindled in our eyes, And earth becomes an Eden full of beauty and delight, Where the air is far too happy to bear any weight of sighs, And myriad forms of gentle things bring gladness to the sight. And we wander through and through, Past the fairest trees and flowers, Till we find the friends we knew, And link their hands in ours, And then, in ecstacy of bliss, we seek the sweetest bowers. II. “When the Spring-time comes”-- But ah! the snow is cold, And Death is colder still,-- Whom may he not enfold? The glory in our eyes that shone is dimmed with bitter tears, And our Eden-flowers have faded into nothingness again; And we wander sadly, darkly, through a labyrinth of years, And we call for vanished faces, and act wildly in our pain. And then there comes a calm, And our sorrow grows less bold, As Nature’s mighty psalm, O’er God’s own mountain rolled, Once heralded the still, small voice to that lone seer of old. III. “When the Spring-time comes”-- Think we of griefs we know; Had we foreseen them long, Could we have stood the blow? Then should we not be thankful for the mercy that conceals The future, whether dark or bright, from our too curious eyes? God knows what’s best for all of us; He covers or reveals, As it seemeth to him best, the ill that in our pathway lies. So let us journey on, Content in weal or woe To feel at least that One Smiles on us as we go, Who in sublime humility once suffered here below. IV.