THE ONE HOPE.

WHEN vain desire at last and vain regret

Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,
What shall assuage the unforgotten pain
And teach the unforgetful to forget?

Shall Peace be still a sunk stream long unmet,—
Or may the soul at once in a green plain
Stoop through the spray of some sweet life-fountain
And cull the dew-drenched flowering amulet?

Ah! when the wan soul in that golden air

Between the scriptured petals softly blown
Peers breathless for the gift of grace unknown,-

Ah! let none other written spell soe'er,

But only the one Hope's one name be there,-
Not less nor more, but even that word alone.

DANTE G. ROSSETTI.

SYMBOLS OF VICTORY.

ELLOW leaves on the ash-tree,
Soft glory in the air,

And the streaming radiance of sunshine
On the leaden clouds over there.

At a window a child's mouth smiling,
Overhung with tearful eyes,

At the flying rainy landscape

And the sudden opening skies.

Angels hanging from heaven,
A whisper in dying ears,

And the promise of great salvation
Shining on mortal fears.

A dying man on his pillow

Whose white soul fled to his face, Puts on her garment of joyfulness And stretches to Death's embrace.

Passion, rapture, and blindness,
Yearning, aching, and fears,
And Faith and Duty gazing
With steadfast eyes upon tears.

I see, or the glory blinds me
Of a soul divinely fair,
Peace after great tribulation,
And victory hung in the air.

WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE.

Lobe.

I

THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

SAY to thee, do thou repeat

To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street

That he and we and all men move
Under a canopy of love

As broad as the blue sky above;

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain
And anguish, all are shadows vain,
That death itself shall not remain ;

That weary deserts we may tread,
A dreary labyrinth may thread,
Through dark ways underground be led;

Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
The dreariest path, the darkest way

Shall issue out in heavenly day;

And we, on divers shores now cast,
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
All in our Father's house at last.

And, ere thou leave him, say thou this,
Yet one word more-they only miss
The winning of that final bliss,

Who will not count it true, that Love,
Blessing, not cursing, rules above,
And that in it we live and move.

And one thing further make him know,
That to believe these things are so,
This firm faith never to forego,

Despite of all which seems at strife
With blessing, all with curses rife,
That this is blessing, this is life.

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

LOVED ONCE.

I

CLASSED, appraising once

Earth's lamentable sounds, the well-a-day,'

The jarring 'yea' and 'nay,'

The fall of kisses on unanswering clay,

The sobbed 'farewell,' the welcome' mournfuller,-

But all did leaven the air

With a less bitter leaven of sure despair

Than these words-'I loved once.'

And who saith, 'I loved once'?

Not angels, whose clear eyes love, love foresee,

Love through eternity!

And by To Love, do apprehend To Be.

Not God, called Love, his noble crown-name, casting

A light too broad for blasting!

The great God, changing not from everlasting,

Saith never, I loved once.'

Oh! never is 'loved once'

Thy word, thou Victim-Christ, misprizèd Friend!
Thy cross and curse may rend;

But, having loved, Thou lovest to the end!

This is man's saying—man's !—too weak to move
One sphered star above,

Man desecrates the eternal God-word, Love,
By his 'no more' and 'once.'

How say ye 'We loved once,'

Blasphemers! Is your earth not cold enow,

Mourners, without that snow?

Ah, friends! and would ye wrong each other so?
And could ye say of some, whose love is known,

Whose prayers have met your own,

Whose tears have fallen for you, whose smiles have shone

So long, 'We loved them once'?

Could ye, 'We loved her once,'

Say calm of me, sweet friends, when out of sight—

When hearts of better right

Stand in between me and your happy light;