XI.

While yet I spake, a touch was laid
Upon my brow, whose pride did fade,
As thus, methought, an angel said:

XII.

"If I were thou who sing'st this song, Most wise for others; and most strong In seeing right, while doing wrong;

XIII.

"I would not waste my cares, and choose, As thou,-to seek what thou must lose, Such gains as perish in the use.

XIV.

"I would not work where none can win, As thou,-half way 'twixt grief and sin, But look above, and judge within.

XV.

"I would not let my pulse beat high, As thou, toward fame's regality, Nor yet in love's great jeopardy.

XVI.

"I would not champ the hard cold bit, As thou,-of what the world thinks fit,But take God's freedom, using it.

XVII.

"I would not play earth's winter out,
As thou; but gird my soul about,
And live for life past death and doubt.

XVIII.

"Then sing, O singer!--but allow Beast, fly, and bird, called foolish now, Are wise (for all thy scorn) as thou!"

MEMORY AND HOPE.

I.

BACK-LOOKING Memory

And prophet Hope both sprang from out the
ground:

One, where the flashing of Cherubic sword
Fell sad, in Eden sward;

And one, from Eden earth, within the sound
Of the four rivers lapsing pleasantly,

What time the promise after curse was said—
"Thy seed shall bruise his head."

II.

Poor Memory's brain is wild,

As moonstruck by that flaming atmosphere
When she was born. Her deep eyes shine and shone
With light that conquereth sun

And stars to wanner paleness year by year:
With odorous gums, she mixeth things defiled;
She trampleth down earth's grasses green and sweet,
With her far-wandering feet.

III.

She plucketh many flowers,

Their beauty on her bosom's coldness killing;
She teacheth every melancholy sound

To winds and waters round;

She droppeth tears with seed, where man is tilling
The rugged soil in his exhausted hours;
She smileth-ah me! in her smile doth go
A mood of deeper woe!

IV.

Hope tripped on out of sight
Crowned with an Eden wreath she saw not fade,
And went a-nodding through the wilderness,
With brow that shone no less

Than sea-bird wings, by storm more frequent made,-
Searching the treeless rock for fruits of light;
Her fair quick feet being armed from stones and cold,
By slippers all of gold.

V.

Memory did Hope much wrong,

And, while she dreamed, her slippers stole away;
But still she wended on with mirth unheeding,
The while her feet were bleeding;

Till Memory met her on a certain day,
And with most evil eyes did search her long
And cruelly, whereat she sank to ground
In a stark deadly swound.

VI.

And so my Hope were slain,

Had it not been that THOU wert standing near, Oh Thou, who saidest 'live' to creatures lying In their own blood, and dying!

For Thou her forehead to thine heart didst rear, And make its silent pulses sing again,— Pouring a new light o'er her darkened eyne, With tender tears from Thine!

VII.

Therefore my Hope arose

From out her swound, and gazed upon Thy face;
And, meeting there that soft subduing look
Which Peter's spirit shook,

Sank downward in a rapture to embrace
Thy pierced hands and feet with kisses close,
And prayed Thee to assist her evermore
To "reach the things before."

VIII.

Then gavest Thou the smile

Whence angel-wings thrill quick like summer lightning,

Vouchsafing rest beside Thee, where she never From Love and Faith may sever; Whereat the Eden crown she saw not whitening, A time ago, though whitening all the while, Reddened with life, to hear the Voice which talked To Adam as he walked.