"NATURE'S CARE TO ALL HER CHILDREN JUST, WITH RICHER TREASURES AND AN AMPLER STATE

"I AM AS FREE AS NATURE FIRST MADE man,

A DOUBTING HEART.

247

Then I heard a strain of music,
So mighty, so pure, so clear,
That my very sorrow was silent,
And my heart stood still to hear.
It rose in harmonious rushing

Of mingled voices and strings,
And I tenderly laid my Message

On Music's outspread wings.

And I heard it float farther and farther,
In sound more perfect than speech,
Farther than sight can follow,

Farther than soul can reach.

And I know that at last my Message
Has passed through the golden gate;

So my heart is no longer restless,

And I am content to wait.

[ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. This amiable poetess, the daughter of a poet (Bryan Waller Proctor, better known by his nom de plume of "Barry Cornwall"), was born in 1825, and died, in the very promise of her powers, in 1864. Her poems, all characterized by delicacy of sentiment and depth of feeling, have been collected in two volumes. "The Message" is given in an abridged form.]

ENDOWS AT LARGE WHATEVER HAPPY MAN WILL DEIGN TO USE THEM FITLY!"-MARK AKENSIDE.

Perchance upon some bleak and stormy
shore.

Oh, doubting heart!

Far over purple seas,
They wait in sunny ease,

The balmy southern breeze,

To bring them to their northern home once more.

WHEN WILD IN WOODS THE NOBLE SAVAGE RAN."-DRyden.

"BY MUSIC, MINDS AN EQUAL TEMPER KNOw, nor swell TOO HIGH NOR SINK TOO Low."-Alexander pope.

248

"REASON'S WHOLE PLEASURE, ALL THE JOYS OF SENSE,

A DOUBTING HEART.

Why must the flowers die?
Prisoned they lie

In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.

Oh, doubting heart!
They only sleep below

The soft white ermine snow

While winter winds shall blow,
To breathe and smile upon you soon again.

The sun has hid its rays
These many days;

Will dreary hours never leave the earth!

Oh, doubting heart!

The stormy clouds on high
Veil the same sunny sky

That soon-for spring is nigh

Shall wake the summer into golden mirth.

Fair hope is dead, and light

Is quenched in night.

What sound can break the silence of despair?

Oh, doubting heart!

The sky is overcast,

Yet stars shall rise at last,

Brighter for darkness past,

And angels' silver voices stir the air.

[ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. From her "Legends and Lyrics."]

LIE IN THREE WORDS-HEALTH, PEACE, AND COMPETENCE."-POPE.

"FOR MODES OF FAITH LET GRACELESS ZEALOTS FIGHT; HIS CAN'T BE WRONG WHOSE LIFE IS IN THE RIGHT."-POPE.

"GO FORTH INTO THE OPEN SKY, AND LIST TO NATURE'S TEACHINGS."-W. CULLEN BRYANT.

"THE POETRY OF EARTH IS CEASING NEVER."-KEATS.

[Rev. JOHN KEBLE, Vicar of Hursley, in Hampshire, died in 1867. He is best known by his "Lyra Innocentium," and his fine volume of devotional poetry, "The Christian Year."]

EARTH, WITH HER THOUSAND VOICES, PRAISES GOD."-COLERIDGE.

"LEAVE THE VAIN LOW STRIFE THAT MAKES MEN MAD-THE TUG FOR WEALTH AND POWER."-BRYANT.

"MAN WEAVES, AND IS CLOTHED WITH DERISION; SOWS, AND HE SHALL NOT REAP

250

HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! THOUGH TO-DAY BE DARK,

BARBARA.

BARBARA.

N the Sabbath day,

Through the churchyard old and gray,

Over the crisp and yellow leaves I held my rustling

way;

And amid the words of mercy, falling on my soul like balms;
'Mong the gorgeous storms of music-in the mellow organ
calms,

'Mong the upward streaming prayers, and the rich and solemn
psalms,

I stood heedless, Barbara!

My heart was otherwhere

While the organ filled the air,

And the priest, with outstretched hands, blessed the people
with a prayer;

But when rising to go homeward, with a mild and saint-like
shine

Gleamed a face of airy beauty with its heavenly eyes on mine—
Gleamed and vanished in a moment.

thine,

Oh, the face was like to

Fre you perished, Barbara!

Oh, that pallid face!

Those sweet, earnest eyes of grace!

When last I saw them dearest, it was in another place;

You came running forth to meet me, with my love-gift on your

wrist,

And a cursed river killed thee, aided by a murderous mist.
Oh, a purple mark of agony was on the mouth I kissed,

When last I saw thee, Barbara!

THE SWEET SUN BURST MAY SMILE TO-MORROW."-MASSEY.

HIS LIFE IS A WATCH OR A VISION BETWEEN A SLEEP AND A SLEEP."-A. C. SWINBURNE.

"WHAT MARTIAL MUSIC IS TO MARCHING MEN SHOULD SONG BE TO HUMANITY;

These dreary years eleven

Have you pined within your heaven,

And is this the only glimpse of earth that in that time was
given?

And have you passed unheeded all the fortunes of your race-
Your father's grave, your sister's child, your mother's quiet face-
To gaze on one who worshipped not within a kneeling place?
Are you happy, Barbara?

'Mong angels, do you think

Of the precious golden link

I bound around your happy arm while sitting on yon brink?
Or when that night of wit and wine, of laughter and guitars,
Was emptied of its music, and we watched, through lattice-bars,
The silent midnight heaven moving o'er us with its stars,
Till the morn broke, Barbara?

In the years I've changed;

Wild and far my heart has ranged,

And many sins and errors deep have been on me avenged;
But to you I have been faithful, whatsoever good I've lacked :
I loved you, and above my life still hangs that love intact—
Like a mild consoling rainbow, on a savage cataract.
Love has saved me, Barbara.

O Love! I am unblest;

With monstrous doubts opprest

Of much that's dark and nether, much that's holiest and best.
Could I but win you for an hour from off that starry shore,
The hunger of my soul were stilled; for Death has told you

more

Than the melancholy world doth know-things deeper than all

lore,

Will you teach me, Barbara?

SONGS HEARD IN HEAVEN BY THE BREeathless STARS."-ALEX. SMITH.

IN SONG THE INFANT AGES BORN AND SWATHED ARE."-ALEXANDER SMITH.