And then to cry in deep delight God made the world and made it right; Dear Heaven above! Was ere completeness so complete, Was ever sweetness half so sweet, Was ever loving half so meet; Thank God for love. SHE IS DEAD Well! She is dead and gone, God willed it so. Died ere her child was born, Ever to know. Dead! oh, how still and cold! Yet full of rest. She was not very old Still, it was best. Hush, chide her not, not now, Save by a tear, Dropped on that marble brow So smooth and dear. Pity her as she lies There all alone; Tenderly close her eyes, Sorrowful grown. Yes; she has sinned maybe, Willing to fall, Yet now forgive ... ah! see, Death atones all. TO —— Dear, if you were in this city, In this misty, dreary city, With its sombre walls and towers— All its poorer streets and byways, All its richer streets and highways, All the buildings stern and old, And the river deep and cold, Would become as summer to me, Decked with sweet, perfuming flowers. THE WHOLE OF IT A joy that passes, a pain that stays, Such is life. A moment's rapture, then weary days, Years of strife, Such is life. A kiss of passion, a sigh of pain, Such is love. A flash of splendour, then night again, God above, Such is love! A sudden blindness, a creeping fear, Such is death. An awful vastness, an unknown sphere, Choking breath, And then ... death. A SONG A cloud is over the sun, The wind is laden with rain, A frost has smitten the flowers; The time of Winter is pain. But kiss me and I shall live, The sun shall nourish the plain, The dawn be happy with birds And love bring Summer again. IF LIKE THE BIRD If like the bird who sits and swings Upon a branch, and blithely sings, I could but spread two faithful wings, And by their aid could smoothly skim The highest peaks, the summits dim, Until I reached the sunlight's rim, Would I not then in pity gaze Upon the turmoil and the maze Of earth, and all its foolish ways? A FRAGMENT Chance made me look at you, Chance was no friend! Sight made me worship you, Time without end. Had I been only blind What had I cared, And thus, afflicted sore How much been spared! AN EVEN PSALM With silent feet all wet with dew, Comes evening full of soft repose, To kiss the valley deep and blue, With wistful lips, and eyes that close. Her breath is soft, and full of peace, Her arms outstretchéd to caress Fling benedictions without cease, She seems a spirit borne to bless.