Chapter VII (3)

O, all the happy world was in its best, The trees were covered thick with buds and flowers, And these were dropping honey; for the rest, Sweetly the birds were piping in their bowers; Across the grass did groups of Angels go, And Saints in pairs were walking to and fro.

Then did she pass toward the almond-tree, And none she saw beneath it: yet each Saint Upon his coming meekly bent the knee, And all their glory as they gazed waxed faint. And then a 'lighting Angel neared the place, And folded his fair wings before his face.

She also knelt, and spread her aged hands As feeling for the sacred human feet; She said, "Mine eyes are held, but if He stands Anear, I will not let Him hence retreat Except He bless me." Then, O sweet! O fair! Some words were spoken, but she knew not where.

She knew not if beneath the boughs they woke, Or dropt upon her from the realms above; "What wilt thou, woman?" in the dream He spoke, "Thy sorrow moveth Me, thyself I love; Long have I counted up thy mournful years, Once I did weep to wipe away thy tears."

She said: "My one Redeemer, only blest, I know Thy voice, and from my yearning heart Draw out my deep desire, my great request, My prayer, that I might enter where Thou art. Call me, O call from this world troublesome, And let me see Thy face." He answered, "Come."

_Here is the ending of the second dream._ It is a frosty morning, keen and cold, Fast locked are silent mere and frozen stream, And snow lies sparkling on the desert wold; With savory morning meats they spread the board, But Justice Wilvermore will walk abroad.

"Bring me my cloak," quoth he, as one in haste. "Before you breakfast, sir?" his man replies. "Ay," quoth he quickly, and he will not taste Of aught before him, but in urgent wise As he would fain some carking care allay, Across the frozen field he takes his way.

"A dream! how strange that it should move me so, 'Twas but a dream," quoth Justice Wilvermore: "And yet I cannot peace nor pleasure know, For wrongs I have not heeded heretofore; Silver and gear the crone shall have of me, And dwell for life in yonder cottage free.

"For visions of the night are fearful things, Remorse is dread, though merely in a dream; I will not subject me to visitings Of such a sort again. I will esteem My peace above my pride. From natures rude A little gold will buy me gratitude.

"The woman shall have leave to gather wood, As much as she may need, the long year round; She shall, I say,--moreover, it were good Yon other cottage roofs to render sound. Thus to my soul the ancient peace restore, And sleep at ease," quoth Justice Wilvermore.

With that he nears the door: a frosty rime Is branching over it, and drifts are deep Against the wall. He knocks, and there is time,-- (For none doth open),--time to list the sweep And whistle of the wind along the mere Through beds of stiffened reeds and rushes sere.

"If she be out, I have my pains for nought," He saith, and knocks again, and yet once more, But to his ear nor step nor stir is brought; And after pause, he doth unlatch the door And enter. No: she is not out, for see She sits asleep 'mid frost-work winterly.

Asleep, asleep before her empty grate, Asleep, asleep, albeit the landlord call. "What, dame," he saith, and comes toward her straight, "Asleep so early!" But whate'er befall, She sleepeth; then he nears her, and behold He lays a hand on hers, and it is cold.

Then doth the Justice to his home return; From that day forth he wears a sadder brow; His hands are opened, and his heart doth learn The patience of the poor. He made a vow And keeps it, for the old and sick have shared His gifts, their sordid homes he hath repaired.

And some he hath made happy, but for him Is happiness no more. He doth repent, And now the light of joy is waxen dim, Are all his steps toward the Highest sent; He looks for mercy, and he waits release Above, for this world doth not yield him peace.

Night after night, night after desolate night, Day after day, day after tedious day, Stands by his fire, and dulls its gleamy light, Paceth behind or meets him in the way; Or shares the path by hedgerow, mere, or stream, The visitor that doomed him in his dream.

Thy kingdom come. I heard a Seer cry,--"The wilderness, The solitary place, Shall yet be glad for Him, and He shall bless (Thy kingdom come) with his revealéd face The forests; they shall drop their precious gum, And shed for Him their balm: and He shall yield The grandeur of His speech to charm the field.

"Then all the soothéd winds shall drop to listen, (Thy kingdom come,) Comforted waters waxen calm shall glisten With bashful tremblement beneath His smile: And Echo ever the while Shall take, and in her awful joy repeat, The laughter of His lips--(thy kingdom come): And hills that sit apart shall be no longer dumb; No, they shall shout and shout, Raining their lovely loyalty along the dewy plain: And valleys round about,

"And all the well-contented land, made sweet With flowers she opened at His feet, Shall answer; shout and make the welkin ring And tell it to the stars, shout, shout, and sing; Her cup being full to the brim, Her poverty made rich with Him, Her yearning satisfied to its utmost sum,-- Lift up thy voice, O earth, prepare thy song, It shall not yet be long, Lift up, O earth, for He shall come again, Thy Lord; and He shall reign, and He SHALL reign,-- Thy kingdom come."

SONGS

ON

THE VOICES OF BIRDS.

SONGS ON THE VOICES OF BIRDS.