Sleep, do you sleep in the house in the lonely land? In the lonely room do you hear no steps draw near? Do you miss in the darkness the hand that implores your hand, See through the darkness your last dream disappear, And weep, as I weep, in the outer darkness here? Dream, do you dream? Nay, never a dream will stay, Never a phantom is fond, or a vision kind. Your dreams elude you and fly through the dark my way, My dreams fly forth to you whom they may not find; And we in the darkness weep, we weep and are left behind. SILENCE. So silent is the world to-night The lamp gives silence out like light, The latticed windows open wide Show silence, like the night, outside: The nightingale's faint song draws near Like musical silence to mine ear. The empty house calls not to me, "Here, but for fate, were thou and she--" Its gibe for once is checked. To-night Silence is queen in grief's despite, And even the longing of my soul Is silent 'neath this hour's control. RAISON D'ETRE. O WEARY night, O weary day, When heart's delight is far away! What is the day? A frame of blue The vacant-glaring sun grins through. What is the night? A sable veil Through which the moon peers tired and pale. O weary day! O weary night! How far away is heart's delight! Love hung the sun in his high place To give me light to see her face, And love spread out the veil of night To hide us two from all men's sight. O kindly night, O pleasant day, Your use is gone--why should ye stay? My heart's delight is far away, O weary night, O weary day. THE ONLOOKER. If I could make a pillow for your head, Soft, pleasant, filled with every pretty thought; If I could lay a carpet where you tread Of all my life's most radiant fancies wrought, And spread my love as canopy above you, Your sleep, your steps should know how much I love you. But--as life goes, to the old sorry tune-- I stand apart, I see thorns wound your feet, Your sleeping eyes resenting sun and moon, Your head lie restless on a breast unmeet-- And say no word, and suffer without moan, Lest you should guess how much you are alone. THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE. I PLUCKED the blossoms of delight In many a wood and many a field, I made a garland fair and bright As any gardens yield. But when I sought the living tree To make new earth and Heaven new, I found--alas for you and me-- Its roots were set in you. Oh, dear my garden, where the fruit Of lovely knowledge sweetly springs, How jealously you guard the root Of all enlightening things! AT PARTING.