Regions where never fancy's foot had trod Till then; yet all the strangeness seemed not strange,

At which I wondered, reasoning in my dream

With two-fold sense, well knowing that I slept.

At last I came to this our cloud-hung earth, And somewhere by the seashore was a

grave,

A woman's grave, new-made, and heaped with flowers;

And near it stood an ancient holy man

That fain would comfort me, who sorrowed not

For this unknown dead woman at my feet. But I, because his sacred office held

My reverence, listened; and 't was thus he spake:

"When next thou comest thou shalt find her still

In all the rare perfection that she was.
Thou shalt have gentle greeting of thy love!
Her eyelids will have turned to violets,
Her bosom to white lilies, and her breath
To roses. What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower, or winged
air.

If this befalls our poor unworthy flesh,
Think thee what destiny awaits the soul!
What glorious vesture it shall wear at
last!"

While yet he spoke, seashore and grave and priest

Vanished, and faintly from a neighboring spire

Fell five slow solemn strokes upon my ear. Then I awoke with a keen pain at heart, A sense of swift unutterable loss,

And through the darkness reached my hand to touch

Her cheek, soft pillowed on one restful palın

To be quite sure!

Will come, and marvel why thou wastest time;

Others, beholding how thy turrets climb "Twixt theirs and heaven, will hate thee all thy days;

But most beware of those who come to praise.

O Wondersmith, O worker in sublime And heaven-sent dreams, let art be all in all;

Build as thou wilt, unspoiled by praise or blame,

Build as thou wilt, and as thy light is given: Then, if at last the airy structure fall, Dissolve, and vanish-take thyself no

shame. They fail, and they alone, who have not striven.

REMINISCENCE

THOUGH I am native to this frozen zone That half the twelvemonth torpid lies, or dead;

Though the cold azure arching overhead
And the Atlantic's never-ending moan
Are mine by heritage, I must have known
Life otherwhere in epochs long since fled;
For in my veins some Orient blood is red,
And through my thought are lotus blossoms
blown.

I do remember. . . it was just at dusk,
Near a walled garden at the river's turn
(A thousand summers seem but yesterday!),
A Nubian girl, more sweet than Khoorja
musk,

Came to the water-tank to fill her urn,
And, with the urn, she bore my heart away!

OUTWARD BOUND

I LEAVE behind me the elm-shadowed

square

And carven portals of the silent street, And wander on with listless, vagrant feet Through seaward-leading alleys, till the

air

Smells of the sea, and straightway then the care

Slips from my heart, and life once more is

sweet.

At the lane's ending lie the white-winged fleet.

O restless Fancy, whither wouldst thou fare?

A MIDDLE-AGED LYRICAL POET IS SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING LEAVE OF THE MUSE OF COMEDY

I BAY it under the rose

Oh, thanks!—yes, under the laurel,

We part lovers, not foes;

We are not going to quarrel.

We have too long been friends
On foot and in gilded coaches,
Now that the whole thing ends,

To spoil our kiss with reproaches.

I leave you; my soul is wrung;

I pause, look back from the portalAh, I no more am young,

And you, child, you are immortal!

III

That was indeed to live-
At one bold swoop to wrest
From darkling death the best
That death to life can give.
He fell as Roland fell
That day, at Roncevaux,

With foot upon the ramparts of the foe!
A pean, not a knell,
For heroes dying so!

No need for sorrow here,
No room for sigh or tear,

Save such rich tears as happy eyelids know.
See where he rides, our Knight!
Within his eyes the light

Of battle, and youth's gold about his brow;
Our Paladin, our Soldier of the Cross,
Not weighing gain with loss-
World-loser, that won all
Obeying duty's call!
Not his, at peril's frown,
A pulse of quicker beat;
Not his to hesitate

And parley hold with Fate,
But proudly to fling down
His gauntlet at her feet.

O soul of loyal valor and white truth,
Here, by this iron gate,

Thy serried ranks about thee as of yore,
Stand thou for evermore

In thy undying youth!