I gave thee of my seed to sow, And answer, "Father, here is gold?" I have been innocent; God knows Christ still was wandering o'er the earth Upon the hour when I was born, And Heaven's rich instincts in me grew, As effortless as woodland nooks Send violets up and paint them blue. Yes, I who now, with angry tears, Have borne unquenched for fourscore years And to what end? How yield I back Men think it is an awful sight On that drear voyage from whose night A helpless infant newly born, Mine held them once; I flung away But clutch the keys of darkness yet;-I hear the reapers singing go Into God's harvest; I, that might With them have chosen, here below Grope shuddering at the gates of night. O glorious Youth, that once wast mine! O high Ideal! all in vain Ye enter at this ruined shrine Whence worship ne'er shall rise again, The bat and owl inhabit here, The snake nests in the altar-stone, The sacred vessels moulder near, The image of the God is gone. THE OAK. WHAT gnarled stretch, what depth of shade, is his! There needs no crown to mark the forest's king; How in his leaves outshines full summer's bliss! Sun, storm, rain, dew, to him their tribute bring, Which he with such benignant royalty Accepts, as overpayeth what is lent; How towers he, too, amid the billowed snows, Jewelled with sleet, like some cathedral front Where clinging snow-flakes with quaint art repair The dints and furrows of time's envious brunt. How doth his patient strength the rude March wind Persuade to seem glad breaths of summer breeze, And win the soil that fain would be unkind, To swell his revenues with proud increase! He is the gem; and all the landscape wide (So doth his grandeur isolate the sense) Seems but the setting, worthless all beside, An empty socket, were he fallen thence. So, from oft converse with life's wintry gales, Should man learn how to clasp with tougher roots The inspiring earth;-how otherwise avails Not for traditions of youth's leafy pride. So, from the pinched soil of a churlish fate, True hearts compel the sap of sturdier growth, So between earth and heaven stand simply great, That these shall seem but their attendants both; For nature's forces with obedient zeal Wait on the rooted faith and oaken will; As quickly the pretender's cheat they feel, And turn mad Pucks to flout and mock him still. Lord! all thy works are lessons,-each contains Cause me some message of thy truth to bring, Speak but a word through me, nor let thy love Among my boughs disdain to perch and sing. AMBROSE. NEVER, surely, was holier man Than Ambrose, since the world began ; He shielded himself from the father of sin; Through earnest prayer and watchings long At last he builded a perfect faith, Fenced round about with The Lord thus saith; Then Ambrose said, "All those shall die One day, as Ambrose was seeking the truth |