All things in earth and air The sacred misletoe! Hoeder, the blind old God, The accursed misletoe! They laid him in his ship, With horse and harness, As on a funeral pyre. Odin placed A ring upon his finger And whispered in his ear. They launched the burning ship Over the misty sea, Till like the moon it seemed, So perish the old Gods! Fairer than the old. Over the meadows green Walk the young bards and sing. Build it again, O ye bards, Fairer than before! Ye fathers of the new race, Feed upon morning dew, The law of force is dead! ON FANNY KEMBLE'S (MRS BUTLER) READINGS FROM SHAKSPEARE. O PRECIOUS evenings! all too swiftly sped! Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages, And giving tongues unto the silent dead! How our hearts glowed and trembled as she read, Of the great Poet who foreruns the ages, O happy Reader! having for thy text The magic book, whose sibylline leaves have caught The rarest essence of all human thought! O happy Poet, by no critic vext! How must thy listening spirit now rejoice To be interpreted by such a voice! THE SINGERS. GOD sent his Singers upon earth The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, Playing the music of our dreams. The second, with a bearded face, A gray old man, the third and last, And those who heard the Singers three, But the great Master said, "I see I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might, And he whose ear is tuned aright Will hear no discord in the three, SUSPIRIA. TAKE them, O Death! and bear away Take them, O Grave! and let them lie Take them, O great Eternity! That bends the branches of thy tree, HYMN FOR MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION. CHRIST to the young man said: "Yet one thing more ; If thou wouldst perfect be, Sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor, And come and follow me!" Within this temple Christ again, unseen, And his invisible hands to-day have been And evermore beside him on his way, and say, The unseen Christ shall move, That he may lean upon his arm, "Dost thou, dear Lord, approve ?" Beside him at the marriage feast shall be, Beside him in the dark Gethsemane O holy trust! O endless sense of rest! To lay his head upon his Saviour's breast, EARLIER POEMS. [THESE Poems were written, for the most part, during my College life, and all of them before the age of nineteen. Some have found their way into schools, and seem to be successful. Others lead a vagabond and precarious existence in the corners of newspapers; or have changed their names, and run away to seek their fortunes beyond the sea. I say, with the Bishop of Avranches, on a similar occasion: "I cannot be displeased to see these children of mine which I have neglected, and almost exposed, brought from their wanderings in lanes and alleys, and safely lodged, in order to go forth into the world together in a more decorous garb."] AN APRIL DAY. When the warm sun, that brings I love the season well, When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, The coming on of storms. From the earth's loosened mould The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; The softly warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings When the bright sunset fills The silver woods with light, the green slope throws And wide the upland glows. |