"As well as if thy voice to-day "This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome Said Theocrite, "Would God that I Night passed, day shone, And Theocrite was gone. With God a day endures alway, God said in Heaven, "Nor day nor night Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth, Entered in flesh, the empty cell, Lived there, and played the craftsman well: And morning, evening, noon, and night, And from a boy, to youth he grew: The man matured and fell away And ever o'er the trade he bent, (He did God's will; to him, all one God said, "A praise is in mine ear; THE BOY AND THE ANGEL. "So sing old worlds, and so New worlds that from my footstool go. "Clearer loves sound other ways: Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell 'T was Easter Day: he flew to Rome, In the tiring-room close by With his holy vestments dight, And all his past career Since when, a boy, he plied his trade, And in his cell, when death drew near, And rising from the sickness drear To the East with praise he turned, "I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell, And set thee here; I did not well. Vainly I left my angel's-sphere, Vain was thy dream of many a year. 66 Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped, Creation's chorus stopped! 45 "Go back and praise again The early way,— while I remain. "With that weak voice of our disdain, "Back to the cell and poor employ: Theocrite grew old at home; A new Pope dwelt in Peter's Dome. One vanished as the other died: I TIME'S REVENGES. 'VE a Friend, over the sea; I like him, but he loves me; It all grew out of the books I write; He does himself though, - and if some vein Or out of the bedclothes stretch my hand To be my nurse in this poor place, And make me broth and wash my face, And light my fire, and, all the while, TIME'S REVENGES. Than come and kill me, night and day, I am as sure that this he would do, And I've a Lady - There he wakes, So I might prove myself that sea Call my thoughts false and my fancies quaint, And not one angry word you get! But, please you, wonder I would put And you shall see how the Devil spends A fire God gave for other ends! I tell you, I stride up and down This garret, crowned with love's best crown, And feasted with love's perfect feast, To think I kill for her, at least, Body and soul and peace and fame, Alike youth's end and manhood's aim, So is my spirit, as flesh with sin, 47 Filled full, eaten out and in With the face of her, the eyes of her, Of shadow round her mouth; and she There may be Heaven; there must be Hell; "H THE GLOVE. EIGH-HO!" yawned one day King Francis, When a man's busy, why, leisure Give us your speech, master Peter!" "Sire," I replied, "joys prove cloudlets : Here the King whistled aloud, "Let's ... If you talk fine to King Francis. |