You have said that there is not a fear Or a doubt that oppresses your soul, That your faith is so strong That it bears you along, Ever holding you in its control.
"Tis a comfort to know there is one Whose allegiance cannot be denied, But I fain would enquire, (For your faith is far high"r Than is mine): Have you ever been tried?
Have you sought to aspire to a life Higher far than the one that is past?
Have you laboured through years, By your hopes crushing fears, But to meet disappointment at last?
Have the friends who should love you the best, In your absence forgotten that love, And refused to impart To your grief-stricken heart All the solace their kindness would prove?
Has the world misconstrued your intents, And endeavoured to sully your fame?
Has the venomous tongue With its calumny stung Your proud heart, and dishonoured your name?
I desire not to "chide" you nor "vex,"
But I ask you to answer me now; Did the torturing pain Of a love that is vain Ever furrow your heart like a plough?
Have you loved with so fervent a love That, when failure and hopelessness came, All the torments of h.e.l.l In your breast seemed to dwell, Scorching courage and faith in their flame?
One of these may have fall"n to your lot; What if all were apportioned to me?
Could I then "lift my head,"
Nor a single tear shed?-- Has such faith been allotted to thee?
I have sought to be true to my G.o.d, I have sought to be faithful as you; But such "tumult and strife"
Have embittered my life That I am not so faultlessly true.
TO L. W.
When the path of my life Lay through trouble and strife, And temptation encompa.s.sed me round, As a light in the shade Thou wast sent to mine aid; And a harbour of refuge was found.
I beheld in thine eye, As a beam from on high, The ray of compa.s.sion revealed; And I turned in relief From the Valley of Grief; I turned to be strengthened and healed.
In the words that you breathed All my sorrow was sheathed, And peace, like a dove, settled down.
And the calm of your presence, Like mercy"s pure essence, Recaptured the faith that had flown.
Since then, if perplexed, If hara.s.sed or vexed, If tempted, afflicted or tried, I have sought thee to cheer, Thou hast ever been near To comfort, to soothe and to guide.
Thus a thrill of affection Must greet the reflection That thou hast considered my needs; And my heart can but move With a reverent love As I ponder thy merciful deeds.
Though feeble and weak Are the words that I speak, Such grat.i.tude wells in my soul, That I dare not express What I fain would confess, Lest my pen should escape my control.
Yet these measures restrained Will have surely attained The purpose that caused them to be, If of all that I feel They should chance to reveal But a hint, in a whisper, to thee.
YOU WRONG ME, KATE.
You wrong me, Kate, you wrong me In harbouring the thought That he who loves so fondly Would injure thee in aught.
The pang that I must feel, Kate, When dark suspicion lurks Within thy breast, is real, Kate, And mischievously works.
The tone with doubt inflected, The calm, reproachful look, The name of one suspected In light arraignment spoke; These, these enforce the heart-ache, And instigate the strife, And these, in chiefest part, take The joy from out my life.
For bright within my soul, dear, On Love"s unsullied throne, With absolute control, dear, Thou reignest Queen alone.
With reverence I chose thee, With pride I placed thee there; And none did e"er oppose thee, And none shall ever dare.
All womankind shall merit A just regard from me, And all the s.e.x inherit A claim to courtesy; But none has ever claimed me Her va.s.sal, slave or thrall, For Kate, my heart has named thee The sceptred Queen of all.
Then trust me, Kate, oh! trust me, In absence, far or near, And judge me not unjustly, But hold my promise dear.
Will not my word content thee?
I cannot give thee more: Oh Kate, my Kate, repent thee, And love me as before!
FLOSSIE.
I know a maiden, scarce thirteen, A sweet and gentle maid, With dignified and graceful mien, And manner calm and staid.
But I"ve seen her, when none but her parents are nigh, When her spirits are flowing exuberantly, With her feet tossing high, while her arms in accordance, Are wildly upraised in the Fling or the Sword-dance.
I know a maid whose hazel eye Outshines the light gazelle"s, And hid beneath its brilliancy, A pensive shadow dwells.
But I"ve seen it illumed with a mischievous light, Which the sparkles displayed in the meteor"s flight Cannot meet, as her laughter reverberates round, And merrily echo responds to the sound.
I know a maid whose accents mild, And words of sober sense, Declare her woman more than child, Yet mark her innocence.
But I"ve heard her repeating the quip or the joke, While merriment shone in her eyes as she spoke, As, with skill that is seldom excelled on the stage, She worthily mimicked the actor or sage.
I know a maid, a loving maid, Whose quiet, gentle ways, In look, in voice, in act displayed, Must bring her love and praise.
But I know that when nimbly she"s tripping the dance, When her eyes sparkle bright with a mischievous glance, When her sallies of innocent wit shall outpour, She will capture the hearts that were callous before.
TO ETHEL.
So you think you will be a Scotch la.s.sie; The braw Hieland lad in a kilt Has taken your fancy, dear, has he?
And you, too, would be clad in a "tilt."
Well, not one will gainsay you nor blame you, For your wishes are ever fulfilt; And how proudly your father will claim you, When arrayed in a tartan and "tilt"!
And your mother will certainly further The hopes that her Ethel has built; You have only to ask to ensure their Fulfilment concerning the "tilt."
And I--(Oh! I know I don"t count, dear, And for speaking acknowledge my guilt, For my wishes to nothing amount, dear,) I would rather you hadn"t a "tilt."