You too have temperate eyes, Have put your heart to school, Are prov'd. I recognize

A brother of the rule.

I knew it by your lip,

A something when you smil'd, Which meant "close scholarship, A master of the guild."

Well, and how good is life;

Good to be born, have breath, The calms good, and the strife, Good life, and perfect death.

Come, for the dancers wheel,

Join we the pleasant din, Comrade, it serves to feel

The sackcloth next the skin.

LEONARDO'S "MONNA LISA

MAKE thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair
Of knowing thee be absolute: I wait
Hour-long and waste a soul. What word of
fate

Hides 'twixt the lips which smile and still forbear?

Secret perfection! Mystery too fair!
Tangle the sense no more, lest I should hate
The delicate tyranny, the inviolate
Poise of thy folded hands, the fallen hair.

A LONELY way, and as I went my eyes Could not unfasten from the Spring's sweet things,

Lush-sprouted grass, and all that climbs and clings

In loose, deep hedges, where the primrose lies

In her own fairness, buried blooms surprise The plunderer bee and stop his murmurings,

And the glad flutter of a finch's wings Outstartle small blue-speckled butterflies. Blissfully did one speed well plot beguile My whole heart long; I lov'd each separate flower,

Kneeling. I look'd up suddenly - Dear God!

There stretch'd the shining plain for many

And yet I dream'd of a fair land Where you and I were met at last, And face to face, and hand in hand, Smil'd at the sorrow overpast.

The eastern sky was touch'd with fire,
In the dim woodlands cooed the dove,
Earth waited, tense with strong desire,
For day your coming, O my love!
The breeze awoke to breathe your name,
And through the leafy maze I came
With feet that could not turn aside,
With eyes that would not be denied -
My lips, my heart a rosy flame,
Because you kiss'd me ere I died.
Death could but part us for a while;
Beyond the boundary of years
We met again-oh, do not smile
That tender smile, more sad than tears!

What though the end of all be come, The latest hour, the latest breath, This is life's triumph, and its sum, The aloe-flower of love and death!

And yet your kisses wake a life
That throbs in anguish through my heart,
Leads up to wage despairing strife,
And shudders, loathing to depart.
Can such desire be born in vain,
Crush'd by inevitable doom?
While you let live can Love be slain?
Can Love lie dead within my tomb?
And when you die- that hopeless day
When darkness comes and utmost need,
And I am dead and cold, you say,

Will Death have power to hold his
prey?
Shall I not know? Shall I not heed?
When your last sun, with waning light,
Below the sad horizon dips,

Shall I not rush from out the night
To die once more upon your lips?

Ah, the black moment comes! Draw
nigh,
Stoop down, O Love, and hold me fast.
O empty earth! O empty sky!
There is no answer, though I die
Breathing my soul out in the cry,
Is it the first kiss or the last?

Before the mowing of the hay, Twin'd daisy-chains and cowslip-balls, And caroll'd glees and madrigals,

Before the hay, beneath the may, My love (who lov'd me then) and I.

For long years now my love and I

Tread sever'd paths to varied ends; We sometimes meet, and sometimes say The trivial things of every day,

And meet as comrades, meet as friends, My love (who lov'd me once) and I.

But never more my love and I

Will wander forth, as once, together,

Or sing the songs we us'd to sing
In spring-time, in the cloudless weather;
Some chord is mute that us'd to ring,

Some word forgot we us'd to say
Amongst the may, before the hay,
My love (who loves me not) and I

A FOREBODING

I Do not dread an alter'd heart,
Or that long line of land or sea
Should separate my love from me,
I dread that drifting slow apart -
All unresisted, unrestrain'd-

Which comes to some when they have gain'd

The dear endeavor of their soul.

ers,

Columbines prim of the folded core, And lupins, and larkspurs, and "London pride";

Where the heron is waiting amongst the reeds,

Grown tame in the silence that reigns
around,

Broken only, now and then,
By shy woodpecker or noisy jay,
By the far-off watch-dog's muffled bay;

But where never the purposeless laugh-
ter of men,

Or the seething city's murmurous sound Will float up under the river-weeds.

Here may I live what life I please,

Married and buried out of sight,

Married to pleasure, and buried to
pain,

Hidden away amongst scenes like these,
Under the fans of the chestnut trees;

Living my child-life over again,

Nor take account of changing winds that blow,

Shifting the golden arrow, set on high On the gray spire, nor mark who come and go.

Yet would I lie in some familiar place, Nor share my rest with uncongenial dead, Somewhere, maybe, where friendly feet will tread,

As if from out some little chink of space Mine eyes might see them tripping over head.

There stands an ancient tavern,
It is the "Inn of Care."
To all the world 't is open;
It sets a goodly fare;
And every soul is welcome
That deigns to sojourn there.

The landlord with his helpers,
(He is a stalwart host),
To please his guest still labors
With "bouilli" and with "roast;"
And ho! he laughs so roundly,
He laughs, and loves to boast
That he who bears the beaker
May live to share the "toast."

Lucus a non lucendo

Thus named might seem the inn,
So careless is its laughter,
So loud its merry din;
Yet ere to doubt its title
You do, in sooth, begin,
Go, watch the pallid faces
Approach and
pass within.

GORDON

I

CN through the Libyan sand

Rolls ever, mile on mile,

To Nebra, by the Unstrut,
May all the world repair,
And meet a hearty welcome,
And share a goodly fare;

The world! 't is worn and weary —
'Tis tir'd of gilt and glare;
The inn! 't is nam'd full wisely,
It is the "Inn of Care."

SOUL AND BODY

WHERE wert thou, Soul, ere yet my body born

Became thy dwelling-place? Didst thou on earth,

Or in the clouds, await this body's birth? Or by what chance upon that winter's morn Didst thou this body find, a babe forlorn? Didst thou in sorrow enter, or in mirth? Or for a jest, perchance, to try its worth Thou tookest flesh, ne'er from it to be torn? Nay, Soul, I will not mock thee; well I know

Thou wert not on the earth, nor in the sky; For with my body's growth thou too didst

grow;

But with that body's death wilt thou too die? I know not, and thou canst not tell me, so In doubt we'll go together, — thou and I.