But a moment hence and the clouds shall vanish; Breaking and drifting and all asunder. And lo! in their midst will the sky be lying Calm and blue with a peaceful wonder Nothing may alter, though sorrow and tempest Torture the Earth, as she trembles under. MY LOVE My love is a bird with a broken wing, Alone in a stormy night; My love is a lark that forgets to sing And dies with the morning light. My love is a rose that the wind has torn, And crushed with a breath of pain; My love is song with the sweetness gone, A tune with a lost refrain. My love is a ghost that has missed its way, A spirit from Heaven cast; My love is a joy of a bygone day, The soul of a burning past. A MEMORY No, I have not forgotten you, Although I went my way Unanswered, as you wished me to, With none to bid me stay. For in my heart there is a space Whose door you closed to me, Locked in the memory of your face; Then took away the key. TO —— What you deny me, you gave; You cannot take it again In life and after the grave There is something that even then, Death will not kill or destroy, It is so with the hearts of men. Even your pride cannot rob My life of its blessed past; You cannot recall one throb, One glance of the many cast From those dear, passionate eyes; These things will be mine to the last. ON THE MOUNTAIN Below and above, yes, over and under us, Swift clouds hover, and speed and fly; Nothing we see that can hurt or sunder us Here in the arms of the circling sky. Surely we two must belong to each other, Silently mated where none are nigh Save God our Father, and Earth our Mother, And sweetest of all, dear,—You and I. TO —— When she turns aside to pass us by, With a little smile or a glance only We are all alone, my Heart and I, We are all alone, and very lonely. THE PRAYER There stood beside the road a shrine, In whose quaint, vaulted shadow smiled With eyes of tenderness divine, The Blessed Virgin and Her Child. And I, who wandered all alone, Along a rough and weary way, Felt that a great desire had grown Within my heart, to kneel and pray. But lo! my voice had lost the power To utter words so deep and sweet, And so, I breathed them in a flower, And left it, at the Virgin's feet. IF If all the words you spoke, dear, Were every one untrue, There can be nothing good, dear, In earth, or sun, or dew; And all the world's a lie, dear, Because of you. If all the smiles you gave, dear, Were only to beguile, Why then there's nothing sweet, dear, In any human smile; And what we deem most fair, dear, Is only vile.