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For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse.
Men granted that his speech was wise,
But, when a glance they caught Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, They laughed, and called him good-for-naught.
Yet after he was dead and gone,
And e'en his memory dim,
More full of love, because of him.
And day by day more holy grew
Each spot where he had trod,
It is a mere wild rosebud,
Quite sallow now, and dry,
Some gleams of days gone by, —
Lips must fade and roses wither,
All sweet times be o'er, They only smile, and, murmuring “ Thither!”
Stay with us no more :
And yet ofttimes a look or smile,
Thou hast given me many roses,
But never one, like this, O’erfloods both sense and spirit
With such a deep, wild bliss ; We must have instincts that glean up Sparse drops of this life in the cup, Whose taste shall give us all that we Can prove of immortality.
Earth’s stablest things are shadows,
And, in the life to come, Haply some chance-saved trifle
May tell of this old home : As now sometimes we seem to find, In a dark crevice of the mind, Some relic, which, long pondered o'er, Hints faintly at a life before.
AN INCIDENT IN A RAILROAD CAR.
He spoke of Burns : men rude and rough
Pressed round to hear the praise of one Whose heart was made of manly, simple stuff,
As homespun as their own.
And, when he read, they forward leaned,
Drinking, with thirsty hearts and ears, His brook-like songs whom glory never weaned
From humble smiles and tears.
Slowly there grew a tender awe,
As if in him who read they felt and saw
Some presence of the bard.
It was a sight for sin and wrong
And slavish tyranny to see,
In high humanity.
I thought, these men will carry hence
Promptings their former life above, And something of a finer reverence
For beauty, truth, and love.
God scatters love on every side,
Freely among his children all,
Wherein some grains may fall.
There is no wind but soweth seeds
Of a more true and open life, Which burst, unlooked-for, into high-souled deeds,
With wayside beauty rife.