IN DESPAIR.

I KNOW not what the world may be,

For since I have nor hopes nor fears, All things seem strange and far to me, As though I had sailed on some sad sea, For years and years, and and years!

years

Sailed through blind mists, you understand,

And leagues of bleak and bitter foam; Seeing belts of rock and bars of sand, But never a strip of flowery land,

And never the light of hearth or home.

All day and night, all night and day,
I sit in my darkened house alone;
Come thou, whose laughter sounds so gay,
Come hither, for charity come! and say

What flowers are faded, and what are blown.

Does the great, glad sun, as he used to, rise?
Or is it always a weary night?

A shadow has fallen across my eyes,
Come hither and tell me about the skies,

Are there drops of rain? are there drops of light?

Keep not, dear heart, so far away,

With thy laughter light and laughter low, But come to my darkened house, I pray, And tell me what of the fields to-day,

Or lilies, or snow? or lilies, or snow?

WAIT.

Do the hulls of the ripe nuts hang apart?

Do the leaves of the locust drop in the well? Or is it the time for the buds to start?

O gay little heart, O little gay heart,

Come hither and tell, come hither and tell!

The day of my hope is cold and dead,

The sun is down and the light is gone; Come hither thou of the roses red,

Of the gay, glad heart, and the golden head,

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And tell of the dawn, of the dew and the dawn.

WAIT.

Go not far in the land of light!

A little while by the golden gate,
Lest that I lose you out of sight,
Wait, my darling, wait.

Forever now from your happy eyes

Life's scenic picture has passed away;

You have entered into realities,

And I am yet at the play!

Yet at the play of time

through all,

Thinking of you, and your high estate ;

A little while, and the curtain will fall
Wait, my darling, wait!

Mine is a dreary part to do

A mask of mirth on a mourning brow;

The chance approval, the flower or two, Are nothing nothing now!

The last sad act is drawing on;
A little while by the golden gate
Of the holy heaven to which you are gone,
Wait, my darling, wait.

RELIGIOUS POEMS.

THE GOLDEN MEAN,

LEST to evil ways I run

When I go abroad,

Shine about me, like the sun,

O my gracious Lord!

Make the clouds, with silver glowing,

Like a mist of lilies blowing

O'er the summer sward;

And mine eyes keep Thou from being Ever satisfied with seeing,

O my light, my Lord!

est my thoughts on discontent Should in sleep be fed,

Make the darkness like a tent

Round about my bed;

Sweet as honey to the taster,

Make my dreams be, O my Master,

Sweet as honey, ere it loses

Spice of meadow-blooms,

While the taster tastes the roses

In the golden combs.

Lest I live in lowly ease,
Or in lofty scorn,

Make me like the strawberries
That run among the corn;
Grateful in the shadows keeping,
Of the broad leaves o'er me sweeping ;
In the gold crop's stead, to render
Some small berries, red and tender,
Like the blushing morn.

Lest that pain to pain be placed-
Weary day to day,

Let me sit at good men's feasts
When the house is gay:

Let my heart beat up to measures
Of all comfortable pleasures,

Till the morning gray,

O'er the eastern hill-tops glancing,

Sets the woodlands all to dancing,
And scares night away.

Lest that I in vain pretense

Careless live and move,

Heart and mind, and soul and sense,

Quicken Thou with love!

Fold its music over, under,

Breath of flute and boom of thunder,

Nor make satisfied my hearing,
As I go on, nearing, nearing,

Him whose name is Love.