The years had worn their seasons’ belt, From bud to rosy prime, Since Nellie by the larch-pole knelt And helped the hop to climb. Most diligent of teachers then, But now with all to learn, She breathed beyond a thought of men, Though formed to make men burn. She dwelt where ‘twixt low-beaten thorns Two […]

That march of the funereal Past behold; How Glory sat on Bondage for its throne; How men, like dazzled insects, through the mould Still worked their way, and bled to keep their own. We know them, as they strove and wrought and yearned; Their hopes, their fears; what page of Life they wist: At whiles […]

Open horizons round, O mounting mind, to scenes unsung, Wherein shall walk a lusty Time: Our Earth is young; Of measure without bound; Infinite are the heights to climb, The depths to sound. A wilding little stubble flower The sickle scorned which cut for wheat, Such was our hope in that dark hour When nought […]

Who call her Mother and who calls her Wife Look on her grave and see not Death but Life.

When I remember, friend, whom lost I call, Because a man beloved is taken hence, The tender humour and the fire of sense In your good eyes; how full of heart for all, And chiefly for the weaker by the wall, You bore that lamp of sane benevolence; Then see I round you Death his […]

Once I was part of the music I heard On the boughs or sweet between earth and sky, For joy of the beating of wings on high My heart shot into the breast of the bird. I hear it now and I see it fly, And a life in wrinkles again is stirred, My heart […]

To them that knew her, there is vital flame In these the simple letters of her name. To them that knew her not, be it but said, So strong a spirit is not of the dead.

Of men he would have raised to light he fell: In soul he conquered with those nerveless hands. His country’s pride and her abasement knell The Man of England circled by the sands.

(d. APRIL 11, 1884) IN HEADLEY CHURCHYARD, SURREY Thou our beloved and light of Earth hast crossed The sea of darkness to the yonder shore. There dost thou shine a light transferred, not lost, Through love to kindle in our souls the more.

A fountain of our sweetest, quick to spring In fellowship abounding, here subsides: And never passage of a cloud on wing To gladden blue forgets him; near he hides.

(THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING) Now dumb is he who waked the world to speak, And voiceless hangs the world beside his bier. Our words are sobs, our cry of praise a tear: We are the smitten mortal, we the weak. We see a spirit on Earth’s loftiest peak Shine, and wing hence the way […]

Our Islet out of Helgoland, dismissed From his quaint tenement, quits hates and loves. There lived with us a wagging humourist In that hound’s arch dwarf-legged on boxing-gloves.

With Alfred and St. Louis he doth win Grander than crowned head’s mortuary dome: His gentle heroic manhood enters in The ever-flowering common heart for home.

Her sacred body bear: the tenement Of that strong soul now ranked with God’s Elect Her heart upon her people’s heart she spent; Hence is she Royalty’s lodestar to direct. The peace is hers, of whom all lands have praised Majestic virtues ere her day unseen. Aloft the name of Womanhood she raised, And gave […]

When comes the lighted day for men to read Life’s meaning, with the work before their hands Till this good gift of breath from debt is freed, Earth will not hear her children’s wailful bands Deplore the chieftain fall’n in sob and dirge; Nor they look where is darkness, but on high. The sun that […]

The varied colours are a fitful heap: They pass in constant service though they sleep; The self gone out of them, therewith the pain: Read that, who still to spell our earth remain.

Long with us, now she leaves us; she has rest Beneath our sacred sod: A woman vowed to Good, whom all attest, The daylight gift of God.

ON THE IDEA OF COMEDY AND OF THE USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT {1} Good Comedies are such rare productions, that notwithstanding the wealth of our literature in the Comic element, it would not occupy us long to run over the English list. If they are brought to the test I shall propose, very reputable […]

CHAPTER I Passing over Ickleworth Bridge and rounding up the heavily-shadowed river of our narrow valley, I perceived a commotion as of bathers in a certain bright space immediately underneath the vicar’s terrace-garden steps. My astonishment was considerable when it became evident to me that the vicar himself was disporting in the water, which, reaching […]

Fire in her ashes Ireland feels And in her veins a glow of heat. To her the lost old time, appeals For resurrection, good to greet: Not as a shape with spectral eyes, But humanly maternal, young In all that quickens pride, and wise To speak the best her bards have sung. You read her […]