Chapter XVII

Voice of the summer stars that long ago
Sang thro' the old oak-forests of our isle,
An ocean-music that thou ne'er couldst know
Storms Heaven--O, keep us steadfast all the while;
Not idly swayed by tides that ebb and flow,
But strong to embrace the whole vast symphony
Wherein no note (no bird, no leaf) can fall
Beyond His care, to enfold it all as though
Thy single harp were ours, its unity
In battle like one sword,
And O, its one reward
One spray of the sacred oak, still coveted most of all.

THE WORLD'S WEDDING

"Et quid curae nobis de generibus et speciebus? Ex uno Verbo omnia, et unum loquuntur omnia. Cui omnia unum sunt, quique ad unum omnia trahit et omnia in uno videt, potest stabilis corde esse."--THOMAS A KEMPIS.

I

When poppies fired the nut-brown wheat,
My love went by with sun-stained feet:
I followed her laughter, followed her, followed her, all a summer's
morn!
But O, from an elfin palace of air,
A wild bird sang a song so rare,
I stayed to listen and--lost my Fair,
And walked the world forlorn.

II

When chalk shone white between the sheaves,
My love went by as one that grieves;
I followed her weeping, followed her, followed her, all an autumn noon!
The sunset flamed so fierce a red
From North to South--I turned my head
To wonder--and my Fair was fled
Beyond the dawning moon.

III

When bare black boughs were choked with snow,
My love went by, as long ago;
I followed her dreaming, followed her, followed her, all a winter's
night!
But O, along that snow-white track
With thorny shadows printed black,
I saw three kings come riding back,
And--lost my life's delight.