tongues of fire

pass

In midnights unholy his witches' mass, Or shouting "Ho! ho!" from the belfry high

As the Devil's sabbath-train whirls by.

But once a year, on the eve of All-Souls, Through these arches dishallowed the organ rolls,

Fingers long fleshless the bell-ropes work,

The chimes peal muffled with sea-mists mirk,

The skeleton windows are traced anew On the baleful flicker of corpse lights blue,

And the ghosts must come, so the legend saith,

To a preaching of Reverend Doctor Death.

And cannot be wrought on by blessings or tears,

Awake in his coffin must wait and wait, In that blackness of darkness that means too late,

And come once a year, when the ghostbell tolls,

As till Doomsday it shall on the eve of All-Souls,

For even our honeymoons must wane,
Convicted of green cheese by Reason.

And none will seem so safe from change,
Nor in such skies benignant hover,
As this, beneath whose witchery strange
You tread on rose-leaves with your
lover.

The glass unfilled all tastes can fit,

As round its brim Conjecture dances; For not Mephisto's self hath wit

To draw such vintages as Fancy's.

When our pulse beats its minor key, When play-time halves and school. time doubles,

Age fills the cup with serious tea,
Which once Dame Clicquot starred
with bubbles.

"Fie, Mr. Graybeard! Is this wise?
Is this the moral of a poet,
Who, when the plant of Eden dies,
Is privileged once more to sow it?
"That herb of clay-disdaining root,

From stars secreting what it feeds on, Is burnt-out passion's slag and soot

Fit soil to strew its dainty seeds on?

High o'er the loud and dusty road

The soft gray cup in safety swings, To brim ere August with its load

Of downy breasts and throbbing wings,

O'er which the friendly elm-tree heaves An emerald roof with sculptured eaves.

Below, the noisy World drags by

In the old way, because it must,
The bride with heartbreak in her eye,
The mourner following hated dust:
Thy duty, winged flame of Spring,
Is but to love, and fly, and sing.

Oh, happy life, to soar and sway
Above the life by mortals led,
Singing the merry months away,

Master, not slave of daily bread,

Wherever sunshine beckons thee!

PALINODE. DECEMBER.

Like some lorn abbey now, the wood
Stands roofless in the bitter air;
In ruins on its floor is strewed

The carven foliage quaint and rare, And homeless winds complain along The columned choir once thrilled with song.

And thou, dear nest, whence joy and praise

The thankful oriole used to pour, Swing'st empty while the north winds chase

Their snowy swarms from Labrador: But, loyal to the happy past,

I love thee still for what thou wast.

Ah, when the Summer graces flee

From other nests more dear than thou, And, where June crowded once, I see

Only bare trunk and disleaved bough; When springs of life that gleamed and gushed

Run chilled, and slower, and are hushed;

When our own branches, naked long,

The vacant nests of Spring betray, Nurseries of passion, love, and song

That vanished as our year grew gray; When Life drones o'er a tale twice told O'er embers pleading with the cold, —

I'll trust, that, like the birds of Spring,
Our good goes not without repair,
But only flies to soar and sing

Far off in some diviner air,
Where we shall find it in the calms
Of that fair garden 'neath the palms.

A YOUTHFUL EXPERIMENT IN ENG LISH HEXAMETERS.

IMPRESSIONS OF HOMER.

SOMETIMES come pauses of calm, when the rapt bard, holding his heart

back, Over his deep mind muses, as when o'er awestricken ocean Poises a heapt clond luridly, ripening the gale and the thunder;

COME back before the birds are flown,
Before the leaves desert the tree,
And, through the lonely alleys blown,
Whisper their vain regrets to me
Who drive before a blast more rude,
The plaything of my gusty mood,
In vain pursuing and pursued!

Nay, come although the boughs be bare, Though snowflakes fledge the summer's nest,

And in some far Ausonian air The thrush, your minstrel, warm his breast.

Come, sunshine's treasurer, and bring To doubting flowers their faith in spring, To birds and me the need to sing!