The Gods smiled sadly, very well they knew Her ardent spirit could ascend the blue, And force their will. Such weak old Deities these latter days Could but comply to her imperious ways. With woeful doubts they showed the flowery maze Of rapturous ill. And she was happy: with that hot content That burns away the flesh, that ravishment Of youth grown bold. Until one morn the roses of her bed Were turned to nettles, all the joy was dead, The passion cold. She cried, "Now let me die, to live a day Were Purgatory. See the awful way I gaze upon." The Gods were silent; powerless to avert The consequence, grown wearily inert. So—she lived on. TO —— The sound of the waves is the sound of tears, And the wind that drifts on the sea Is the restless ghost of the bygone years, With their pain and their ecstasy. The far white ships with their shining sails Are the hopes of a faithful heart, Sent forth to fight through the storm and gales, With never a guiding chart. And what of the pilot who stands above And steadfastly holds the wheel? Oh! he is the man who believed in love Before he forgot to feel. A SPRING POSY A spray of blossoms, and as well Some violets, gathered yesterday From leafy wood and shaded dell, Sweet children of a fruitful May; Dear minstrels of that silent lay More potent than an organ's swell. And now they're withered! all the joy Has gone for ever, and the scent; Relentless fingers can alloy So much of nature's sentiment, So many strains of deep content, It takes so little to destroy. AWAKENING To open both your drowsy eyes, To stretch your limbs and realise That day is here. To watch the dancing, shifting beam Of sun, awake yet half in dream, Uncertain if the fitful gleam Be far or near. To turn with soft, contented sigh, And through the window watch the sky, All opal blue. To feel the air steal in the room, Made fragrant by the soft perfume Of lime-trees, when their scented bloom Is damp with dew. To hear the rustling voice of leaves, The chirp of birds beneath the eaves, But now awake. The tiny hum of timid things That fly with gauzy, fragile wings, Where yet the dusk to daylight clings, When mornings break. To feel the soul look forth and smile, Contented with each fruitful mile That it beholds. To hear the heart beat loud and strong, In unison with Nature's song, That echoes tremulous and long While dawn unfolds. To know yourself a thing complete, With strength of mind and limb replete, With vast desire; A creature made to dominate The lesser things of earth, a fate On whom the universe must wait, With force entire.