Chapter 4

And he came: grown sterner, older--changed indeed: a grave reliance Had replaced his eager manner, and the quick short speech of old: He had gone forth with a spirit half of hope and half defiance; He returned with proud assurance half disdainful and half cold.

Yet his old self seemed returning while he stood sometimes, and listened To her calm soft voice, relating all the thoughts of these long years; And if Mildred's heart was heavy, and at times her blue eyes glistened, Still in thought she would not whisper aught of sorrow or of fears.

Autumn with its golden corn-fields, autumn with its storms and showers, Had been there to greet his coming with its forests gold and brown; And the last leaves still were falling, fading still the year's last flowers, When he left the quiet village, and took back his bride to town.

Home--the home that she had pictured many a time in twilight, dwelling On that tender gentle fancy, folded round with loving care; Here was home--the end, the haven; and what spirit voice seemed telling, That she only held the casket, with the gem no longer there?

Sad it may be to be longing, with a patience faint and weary, For a hope deferred--and sadder still to see it fade and fall; Yet to grasp the thing we long for, and, with sorrow sick and dreary, Then to find how it can fail us, is the saddest pain of all.

What was wanting? He was gentle, kind, and generous still, deferring To her wishes always; nothing seemed to mar their tranquil life: There are skies so calm and leaden that we long for storm-winds stirring, There is peace so cold and bitter, that we almost welcome strife.

Darker grew the clouds above her, and the slow conviction clearer, That he gave her home and pity, but that heart, and soul, and mind Were beyond her now; he loved her, and in youth he had been near her, But he now had gone far onward, and had left her there behind.

Yes, beyond her: yes, quick-hearted, her Love helped her in revealing It was worthless, while so mighty; was too weak, although so strong; There were courts she could not enter; depths she could not sound; yet feeling It was vain to strive or struggle, vainer still to mourn or long.

He would give her words of kindness, he would talk of home, but seeming With an absent look, forgetting if he held or dropped her hand; And then turn with eager pleasure to his writing, reading, dreaming, Or to speak of things with others that she could not understand.

He had paid, and paid most nobly, all he owed; no need of blaming; It had cost him something, may be, that no future could restore: In her heart of hearts she knew it; Love and Sorrow, not complaining, Only suffered all the deeper, only loved him all the more.

Sometimes then a stronger anguish, and more cruel, weighed upon her, That through all those years of waiting, he had slowly learnt the truth; He had known himself mistaken, but that, bound to her in honour, He renounced his life, to pay her for the patience of her youth.

But a star was slowly rising from that mist of grief, and brighter Grew her eyes, for each slow hour surer comfort seemed to bring; And she watched with strange sad smiling, how her trembling hands grew slighter, And how thin her slender finger, and how large her wedding-ring.

And the tears dropped slowly on it, as she kissed that golden token With a deeper love, it may be, than was in the far-off past; And remembering Philip's fancy, that so long ago was spoken, Thought her Ring's bright angel guardian had stayed near her to the last.

Grieving sorely, grieving truly, with a tender care and sorrow, Philip watched the slow, sure fading of his gentle, patient wife; Could he guess with what a yearning she was longing for the morrow, Could he guess the bitter knowledge that had wearied her of life?

Now with violets strewn upon her, Mildred lies in peaceful sleeping; All unbound her long, bright tresses, and her throbbing heart at rest, And the cold, blue rays of moonlight, through the open casement creeping, Show the ring upon her finger, and her hands crossed on her breast.

Peace at last. Of peace eternal is her calm sweet smile a token. Has some angel lingering near her let a radiant promise fall? Has he told her Heaven unites again the links that Earth has broken? For on Earth so much is needed, but in Heaven Love is all!

VERSE: BORROWED THOUGHTS

I. FROM "LAVATER."

Trust him little who doth raise To one height both great and small, And sets the sacred crown of praise, Smiling, on the head of all.

Trust him less who looks around To censure all with scornful eyes, And in everything has found Something that he dare despise.

But for one who stands apart, Stirred by nought that can befall, With a cold indifferent heart,-- Trust him least and last of all.

II. FROM "PHANTASTES."

I have a bitter Thought, a Snake That used to sting my life to pain. I strove to cast it far away, But every night and every day It crawled back to my heart again.

It was in vain to live or strive, To think or sleep, to work or pray; At last I bade this thine accursed Gnaw at my heart, and do its worst, And so I let it have its way.

Thus said I, "I shall never fall Into a false and dreaming peace, And then awake, with sudden start, To feel it biting at my heart, For now the pain can never cease."

But I gained more; for I have found That such a snake's envenomed charm Must always, always find a part, Deep in the centre of my heart, Which it can never wound or harm.

It is coiled round my heart to-day. It sleeps at times, this cruel snake, And while it sleeps it never stings:- Hush! let us talk of other things, Lest it should hear me and awake.

III. FROM "LOST ALICE."

Yes, dear, our Love is slain; In the cold grave for evermore it lies, Never to wake again, Or light our sorrow with its starry eyes; And so--regret is vain.

One hour of pain and dread, We killed our Love, we took its life away With the false words we said; And so we watch it, since that cruel day, Silent, and cold, and dead.

We should have seen it shine Long years beside us. Time and Death might try To touch that life divine, Whose strength could every other stroke defy Save only thine and mine.

No longing can restore Our dead again. Vain are the tears we weep, And vainly we deplore Our buried Love: its grave lies dark and deep Between us evermore.

IV. FROM * * *

Within the kingdom of my Soul I bid you enter, Love, to-day; Submit my life to your control, And give my Heart up to your sway.

My Past, whose light and life is flown, Shall live through memory for you still; Take all my Present for your own, And mould my Future to your will.

One only thought remains apart, And will for ever so remain; There is one Chamber in my heart Where even you might knock in vain.

A haunted Chamber:- long ago I closed it, and I cast the key Where deep and bitter waters flow, Into a vast and silent sea.

Dear, it is haunted. All the rest Is yours; but I have shut that door For ever now. 'Tis even best That I should enter it no more.

No more. It is not well to stay With ghosts; their very look would scare Your joyous, loving smile away-- So never try to enter there.

Check, if you love me, all regret That this one thought remains apart:- Now let us smile, dear, and forget The haunted Chamber in my Heart.

VERSE: LIGHT AND SHADE

Thou hast done well to kneel and say, "Since He who gave can take away, And bid me suffer, I obey."

And also well to tell thy heart That good lies in the bitterest part, And thou wilt profit by her smart.

But bitter hours come to all: When even truths like these will pall, Sick hearts for humbler comfort call.

Then I would have thee strive to see That good and evil come to thee, As one of a great family.

And as material life is planned, That even the loneliest one must stand Dependent on his brother's hand;

So links more subtle and more fine Bind every other soul to thine In one great brotherhood divine.

Nor with thy share of work be vexed; Though incomplete, and even perplex, It fits exactly to the next.

What seems so dark to thy dim sight May be a shadow, seen aright, Making some brightness doubly bright.

The flash that struck thy tree,--no more To shelter thee,--lets Heaven's blue floor Shine where it never shone before.

Thy life that has been dropped aside Into Time's stream, may stir the tide, In rippled circles spreading wide.

The cry wrung from thy spirit's pain May echo on some far-off plain, And guide a wanderer home again.

Fail--yet rejoice; because no less The failure that makes thy distress May teach another full success.

It may be that in some great need Thy life's poor fragments are decreed To help build up a lofty deed.

Thy heart should throb in vast content, Thus knowing that it was but meant As chord in one great instrument;

That even the discord in thy soul May make completer music roll From out the great harmonious whole.

It may be, that when all is light, Deep set within that deep delight Will be to know why all was right;

To hear life's perfect music rise, And while it floods the happy skies, Thy feeble voice to recognise.

Then strive more gladly to fulfil Thy little part. This darkness still Is light to every loving will.

And trust,--as if already plain, How just thy share of loss and pain Is for another fuller gain.

I dare not limit time or place Touched by thy life: nor dare I trace Its far vibrations into space.

One only knows. Yet if the fret Of thy weak heart, in weak regret Needs a more tender comfort yet:

Then thou mayst take thy loneliest fears, The bitterest drops of all thy tears, The dreariest hours of all thy years;

And through thy anguish there outspread, May ask that God's great love would shed Blessings on one beloved head.

And thus thy soul shall learn to draw Sweetness from out that loving law That sees no failure and no flaw,

Where all is good. And life is good, Were the one lesson understood Of its most sacred brotherhood.

VERSE: A CHANGELING

A little changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day: I had no heart or courage To drive the child away.

So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing Would never let me rest.

I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep; I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep.

I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too:- It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue.

I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old.

I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest.

In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the Virgin Mother Holding her Child divine.

I knelt down there in silence, And on the Altar-stone I laid my wailing burden, And came away--alone.

And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining Angel, With wines both wide and strong.

She watches me from Heaven, With loving, tender care, And one day she has promised That I shall find her there.

VERSE: DISCOURAGED

Where the little babbling streamlet First springs forth to light, Trickling through soft velvet mosses, Almost hid from sight; Vowed I with delight,-- "River, I will follow thee, Through thy wanderings to the Sea!"

Gleaming 'mid the purple heather, Downward then it sped, Glancing through the mountain gorges, Like a silver thread, As it quicker fled, Louder music in its flow, Dashing to the Vale below.

Then its voice grew lower, gentler, And its pace less fleet, Just as though it loved to linger Round the rushes' feet, As they stooped to meet Their clear images below, Broken by the ripples' flow.

Purple Willow-herb bent over To her shadow fair; Meadow-sweet, in feathery clusters, Perfumed all the air; Silver-weed was there, And in one calm, grassy spot, Starry, blue Forget-me-not.

Tangled weeds, below the waters, Still seemed drawn away; Yet the current, floating onward, Was less strong than they;-- Sunbeams watched their play, With a flickering light and shade, Through the screen the Alders made.

Broader grew the flowing River; To its grassy brink Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays, Cattle trooped to drink: The blue sky, I think, Was no bluer than that stream, Slipping onward, like a dream.

Quicker, deeper then it hurried, Rushing fierce and free; But I said, "It should grow calmer Ere it meets the Sea, The wide purple Sea, Which I weary for in vain, Wasting all my toil and pain."

But it rushed still quicker, fiercer, In its rocky bed, Hard and stony was the pathway To my tired tread; "I despair," I said, "Of that wide and glorious Sea That was promised unto me."

So I turned aside, and wandered Through green meadows near, Far away, among the daisies, Far away, for fear Lest I still should hear The loud murmur of its song, As the River flowed along.

Now I hear it not:- I loiter Gaily as before; Yet I sometimes think,--and thinking Makes my heart so sore,-- Just a few steps more, And there might have shone for me, Blue and infinite, the Sea.

VERSE: IF THOU COULDST KNOW

I think if thou couldst know, Oh soul that will complain, What lies concealed below Our burden and our pain; How just our anguish brings Nearer those longed-for things We seek for now in vain,-- I think thou wouldst rejoice, and not complain.

I think if thou couldst see, With thy dim mortal sight, How meanings, dark to thee, Are shadows hiding light; Truth's efforts crossed and vexed, Life's purpose all perplexed,-- If thou couldst see them right, I think that they would seem all clear, and wise, and bright.

And yet thou canst not know, And yet thou canst not see; Wisdom and sight are slow In poor humanity. If thou couldst trust, poor soul, In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest: Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best.

VERSE: THE WARRIOR TO HIS DEAD BRIDE

If in the fight my arm was strong, And forced my foes to yield, If conquering and unhurt I came Back from the battle-field-- It is because thy prayers have been My safeguard and my shield.

My comrades smile to see my arm Spare or protect a foe, They think thy gentle pleading voice Was silenced long ago; But pity and compassion, love, Were taught me first by woe.

Thy heart, my own, still beats in Heaven With the same love divine That made thee stoop to such a soul, So hard, so stern, as mine-- My eyes have learnt to weep, beloved, Since last they looked on thine.

I hear thee murmur words of peace Through the dim midnight air, And a calm falls from the angel stars And soothes my great despair-- The Heavens themselves look brighter, love, Since thy sweet soul is there.

And if my heart is once more calm, My step is once more free, It is because each hour I feel Thou prayest still for me; Because no fate or change can come Between my soul and thee.

It is because my heart is stilled. Not broken by despair, Because I see the grave is bright, And death itself is fair-- I dread no more the wrath of Heaven-- I have an angel there!

VERSE: A LETTER

Dear, I tried to write you such a letter As would tell you all my heart to-day. Written Love is poor; one word were better; Easier, too, a thousand times, to say.

I can tell you all: fears, doubts unheeding, While I can be near you, hold your hand, Looking right into your eyes, and reading Reassurance that you understand.

Yet I wrote it through, then lingered, thinking Of its reaching you,--what hour, what day; Till I felt my heart and courage sinking With a strange, new, wondering dismay.

"Will my letter fall," I wondered sadly, "On her mood like some discordant tone, Or be welcomed tenderly and gladly? Will she be with others, or alone?

"It may find her too absorbed to read it, Save with hurried glance and careless air: Sad and weary, she may scarcely heed it; Gay and happy, she may hardly care.

"Shall I--dare I--risk the chances?" slowly Something,--was it shyness, love, or pride?-- Chilled my heart, and checked my courage wholly; So I laid it wistfully aside.

Then I leant against the casement, turning Tearful eyes towards the far-off west, Where the golden evening light was burning, Till my heart throbbed back again to rest.

And I thought: "Love's soul is not in fetters, Neither space nor time keep souls apart; Since I cannot--dare not--send my letters, Through the silence I will send my heart.

"If, perhaps now, while my tears are falling, She is dreaming quietly alone, She will hear my Love's far echo calling, Feel my spirit drawing near her own.

"She will hear, while twilight shades enfold her, All the gathered Love she knows so well-- Deepest Love my words have ever told her, Deeper still--all I could never tell.

"Wondering at the strange mysterious power That has touched her heart, then she will say:- 'Some one whom I love, this very hour, Thinks of me, and loves me, far away.'

"If, as well may be, to-night has found her Full of other thoughts, with others by, Through the words and claims that gather round her She will hear just one, half-smothered sigh;

"Or will marvel why, without her seeking, Suddenly the thought of me recurs; Or, while listening to another speaking, Fancy that my hand is holding hers."

So I dreamed, and watched the stars' far splendour Glimmering on the azure darkness, start,-- While the star of trust rose bright and tender, Through the twilight shadows of my heart.

VERSE: A COMFORTER

I.

Will she come to me, little Effie, Will she come in my arms to rest, And nestle her head on my shoulder, While the sun goes down in the west?

II.

"I and Effie will sit together, All alone, in this great arm-chair:- Is it silly to mind it, darling, When Life is so hard to bear?

III.

"No one comforts me like my Effie, Just I think that she does not try,-- Only looks with a wistful wonder Why grown people should ever cry;

IV.

"While her little soft arms close tighter Round my neck in their clinging hold:- Well, I must not cry on your hair, dear, For my tears might tarnish the gold.

V.

"I am tired of trying to read, dear; It is worse to talk and seem gay: There are some kinds of sorrow, Effie, It is useless to thrust away.

VI.

"Ah, advice may be wise, my darling, But one always knows it before; And the reasoning down one's sorrow Seems to make one suffer the more.

VII.

"But my Effie won't reason, will she? Or endeavour to understand; Only holds up her mouth to kiss me, As she strokes my face with her hand.

VIII.

"If you break your plaything yourself, dear, Don't you cry for it all the same? I don't think it is such a comfort, One has only oneself to blame.

IX.

"People say things cannot be helped, dear, But then that is the reason why; For if things could be helped or altered, One would never sit down to cry:

X.

"They say, too, that tears are quite useless To undo, amend, or restore,-- When I think how useless, my Effie, Then my tears only fall the more.

XI.

"All to-day I struggled against it; But that does not make sorrow cease; And now, dear, it is such a comfort To be able to cry in peace.

XII.

"Though wise people would call that folly, And remonstrate with grave surprise; We won't mind what they say, my Effie;-- We never professed to be wise.

"But my comforter knows a lesson Wiser, truer than all the rest:- That to help and to heal a sorrow, Love and silence are always best.

XIV.

"Well, who is my comforter--tell me? Effie smiles, but she will not speak; Or look up through the long curled lashes That are shading her rosy cheek.

XV.

"Is she thinking of talking fishes, The blue bird, or magical tree? Perhaps I am thinking, my darling, Of something that never can be.

XVI.

"You long--don't you, dear?--for the Genii, Who were slaves of lamps and of rings; And I--I am sometimes afraid, dear,-- I want as impossible things.

XVII.

"But hark! there is Nurse calling Effie! It is bedtime, so run away; And I must go back, or the others Will be wondering why I stay.

XVIII.

"So good-night to my darling Effie; Keep happy, sweetheart, and grow wise:- There's one kiss for her golden tresses, And two for her sleepy eyes."

VERSE: UNSEEN

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, than we Can dream of, or than nature understands; We learn not through our poor philosophy What hidden chords are touched by unseen hands.

The present hour repeats upon its strings Echoes of some vague dream we have forgot; Dim voices whisper half-remembered things, And when we pause to listen,--answer not.

Forebodings come: we know not how, or whence, Shadowing a nameless fear upon the soul, And stir within our hearts a subtler sense, Than light may read, or wisdom may control.

And who can tell what secret links of thought Bind heart to heart? Unspoken things are heard, As if within our deepest selves was brought The soul, perhaps, of some unuttered word.

But, though a veil of shadow hangs between That hidden life, and what we see and hear, Let us revere the power of the Unseen, And know a world of mystery is near.

VERSE: A REMEMBRANCE OF AUTUMN

Nothing stirs the sunny silence,-- Save the drowsy humming of the bees Round the rich, ripe peaches on the wall, And the south wind sighing in the trees, And the dead leaves rustling as they fall: While the swallows, one by one, are gathering, All impatient to be on the wing, And to wander from us, seeking Their beloved Spring!

Cloudless rise the azure heavens! Only vaporous wreaths of snowy white Nestle in the grey hill's rugged side; And the golden woods are bathed in light, Dying, if they must, with kingly pride: While the swallows in the blue air wheeling, Circle now an eager fluttering band, Ready to depart and leave us For a brighter land!

But a voice is sounding sadly, Telling of a glory that has been; Of a day that faded all too fast-- See afar through the blue air serene, Where the swallows wing their way at last, And our hearts perchance, as sadly wandering, Vainly seeking for a long-lost day, While we watch the far-off swallows, Flee with them away!

VERSE: THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE

I.

Yes, it looked dark and dreary, That long and narrow street: Only the sound of the rain, And the tramp of passing feet, The duller glow of the fire, And gathering mists of night To mark how slow and weary The long day's cheerless flight!

II.

Watching the sullen fire, Hearing the dismal rain, Drop after drop, run down On the darkening window-pane: Chill was the heart of Alice, Chill as that winter day,-- For the star of her life had risen Only to fade away.

III.

The voice that had been so strong To bid the snare depart, The true and earnest will, The calm and steadfast heart, Were now weighed down by sorrow, Were quivering now with pain; The clear path now seemed clouded, And all her grief in vain.

IV.

Duty, Right, Truth, who promised To help and save their own, Seemed spreading wide their pinions To leave her there alone. So, turning from the Present To well-known days of yore, She called on them to strengthen And guard her soul once more.

V.

She thought how in her girlhood Her life was given away, The solemn promise spoken She kept so well to-day; How to her brother Herbert She had been help and guide, And how his artist nature On her calm strength relied.

VI.

How through life's fret and turmoil The passion and fire of art In him was soothed and quickened By her true sister heart; How future hopes had always Been for his sake alone; And now,--what strange new feeling Possessed her as its own?

VII.

Her home--each flower that breathed there, The wind's sigh, soft and low, Each trembling spray of ivy, The river's murmuring flow, The shadow of the forest, Sunset, or twilight dim-- Dear as they were, were dearer By leaving them for him.

VIII.