“What wilt thou, O my Master? " he began,
"Whatever can be," I.

Say thy first wish whate'er thou wilt I can,"
The Strong Slave made reply.

"Enter the earth and bring its riches forth,

For pearls explore the sea,"

He brought, from East and West and South and North, All treasures back to me!

"Build me a palace wherein I

"Awake and see it done,"

may dwell."

Spake his great voice at dawn. Oh, miracle
That glittered in the sun!

"Find me the princess fit for my embrace,
The vision of my breast;

For her search every clime and every race."
My yearning arms were blessed!

"Get me all knowledge." Sages with their lore,
And poets with their songs,
Crowded my palace halls at every door,

In still, obedient throngs!

"Now bring me wisdom." Long ago he went;

(The cold task harder seems:)

He did not hasten with the last content.
The rest, meanwhile, were dreams!

Houseless and poor, on many a trackless road,
Without a guide, I found

A white-haired phantom with the world his load,
Bending him to the ground!

174.

"I bring thee wisdom, Master." Is it he,
I marvelled then, in sooth?

“Thy palace-builder, beauty-seeker, see!"
I saw the Ghost of Youth!

1835-1908

LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON

To-night

BEND low, O dusky Night,

And give my spirit rest.

Hold me to your deep breast,

And put old cares to flight.
Give back the lost delight
That once my soul possest,
When Love was loveliest.
Bend low, O dusky Night!

Enfold me in your arms.

The sole embrace I crave
Until the embracing grave
Shield me from life's alarms.
I dare your subtlest charms;
Your deepest spell I brave,-
O, strong to slay or save,
Enfold me in your arms!

175.

Laus Veneris

A Picture by Burne Jones
PALLID with too much longing,
White with passion and prayer,

Goddess of love and beauty,
She sits in the picture there,

Sits with her dark eyes seeking
Something more subtle still
Than the old delights of loving
Her measureless days to fill.

She has loved and been loved so often
In her long, immortal years,
That she tires of the worn-out rapture,
Sickens of hopes and fears.

No joys or sorrows move her,
Done with her ancient pride;
For her head she found too heavy
The crown she has cast aside.

So Love is dead that has been quick so long!

Close, then, his eyes, and bear him to his rest,
With eglantine and myrtle on his breast,

And leave him there, their pleasant scents among;
And chant a sweet and melancholy song
About the charms whereof he was possessed,
And how of all things he was loveliest,

And to compare with aught were him to wrong.
Leave him beneath the still and solemn stars,
That gather and look down from their far place
With their long calm our brief woes to deride,
Until the Sun the Morning's gate unbars
And mocks, in turn, our sorrows with his face; -
And yet, had Love been Love, he had not died.

177.

Were But My Spirit Loosed
upon the Air

WERE but my spirit loosed upon the air,

By some High Power who could Life's chains unbind,

Set free to seek what most it longs to find,
To no proud Court of Kings would I repair:
I would but climb, once more, a narrow stair,
When day was wearing late, and dusk was kind;
And one should greet me to my failings blind,
Content so I but shared his twilight there.
Nay! well I know he waits not as of old,

I could not find him in the old-time place,
I must pursue him, made by sorrow bold,
Through worlds unknown, in strange Celestial race,
Whose mystic round no traveller has told,
From star to star, until I see his face.

178.

We Lay Us Down to Sleep

E lay us down to sleep,

WE

And leave to God the rest:
Whether to wake and weep

Or wake no more be best.

Why vex our souls with care?

The grave is cool and low,-
Have we found life so fair
That we should dread to go?

We've kissed love's sweet, red lips,
And left them sweet and red:
The rose the wild bee sips

Blooms on when he is dead.

Some faithful friends we've found;
But they who love us best,
When we are under ground,
Will laugh on with the rest.

No task have we begun

But other hands can take;
No work beneath the sun
For which we need to wake.