Chapter 6

Not a sound is heard in the Convent; The Vesper Chant is sung, The sick have all been tended, The poor nun's toils are ended Till the Matin bell has rung. All is still, save the Clock, that is ticking So loud in the frosty air, And the soft snow, falling as gently As an answer to a prayer. But an Angel whispers, "Oh, Sister, You must rise from your bed to pray; In the silent, deserted chapel, You must kneel till the dawn of day; For, far on the desolate moorland, So dreary, and bleak, and white, There is one, all alone and helpless, In peril of death to-night.

"No sound on the moorland to guide him, No star in the murky air; And he thinks of his home and his loved ones With the tenderness of despair; He has wandered for hours in the snow-drift, And he strives to stand in vain, And so lies down to dream of his children And never to rise again. Then kneel in the silent chapel Till the dawn of to-morrow's sun, And ask of the Lord you worship For the life of that desolate one; And the smiling eyes of his children Will gladden his heart again, And the grateful tears of God's poor ones Will fall on your soul like rain!--

"Yet, leave him alone to perish, And the grace of your God implore, With all the strength of your spirit, For one who needs it more. Far away, in the gleaming city, Amid perfume, and song, and light, A soul that Jesus has ransomed Is in peril of sin to-night.

"The Tempter is close beside him, And his danger is all forgot, And the far-off voices of childhood Call aloud, but he hears them not; He sayeth no prayer, and his mother-- He thinks not of her to-day, And he will not look up to Heaven, And his Angel is turning away.

"Then pray for a soul in peril, A soul for which Jesus died; Ask, by the cross that bore Him, And by her who stood beside; And the Angels of God will thank you, And bend from their thrones of light, To tell you that Heaven rejoices At the deed you have done to-night."

VERSE: SPRING

Hark! the Hours are softly calling, Bidding Spring arise, To listen to the raindrops falling From the cloudy skies, To listen to Earth's weary voices, Louder every day, Bidding her no longer linger On her charmed way; But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun; By the first bright day of summer It should all be done. She has yet to loose the fountain From its iron chain; And to make the barren mountain Green and bright again; She must clear the snow that lingers Round the stalks away And let the snowdrop's trembling whiteness See the light of day. She must watch, and warm, and cherish Every blade of green; Till the tender grass appearing From the earth is seen; She must bring the golden crocus From her hidden store; She must spread broad showers of daisies Each day more and more. In each hedgerow she must hasten Cowslips sweet to set; Primroses in rich profusion, With bright dewdrops wet, And under every leaf, in shadow Hide a Violet! Every tree within the forest Must be decked anew And the tender buds of promise Should be peeping through, Folded deep, and almost hidden, Leaf by leaf beside, What will make the Summer's glory, And the Autumn's pride. She must weave the loveliest carpets, Chequered sun and shade, Every wood must have such pathways Laid in every glade; She must hang laburnum branches On each arched bough;-- And the white and purple lilac Should be waving now; She must breathe, and cold winds vanish At her breath away; And then load the air around her With the scent of May! Listen then, Oh Spring! nor linger On thy charmed way; Have pity on thy prisoned flowers Wearying for the day. Listen to the raindrops falling From the cloudy skies; Listen to the hours calling Bidding thee arise.

VERSE: EVENING HYMN

The shadows of the evening hours Fall from the darkening sky; Upon the fragrance of the flowers The dews of evening lie: Before Thy throne, O Lord of Heaven, We kneel at close of day; Look on Thy children from on high, And hear us while we pray.

The sorrows of Thy Servants, Lord, Oh, do not Thou despise; But let the incense of our prayers Before Thy mercy rise; The brightness of the coming night Upon the darkness rolls: With hopes of future glory chase The shadows on our souls.

Slowly the rays of daylight fade; So fade within our heart, The hopes in earthly love and joy, That one by one depart: Slowly the bright stars, one by one, Within the Heavens shine;-- Give us, Oh, Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven, And trust in things divine.

Let peace, Oh Lord, Thy peace, Oh God, Upon our souls descend; From midnight fears and perils, Thou Our trembling hearts defend; Give us a respite from our toil, Calm and subdue our woes; Through the long day we suffer, Lord, Oh, give us now repose!

VERSE: THE INNER CHAMBER

In the outer Court I was singing, Was singing the whole day long; From the inner chamber were ringing Echoes repeating my song.

And I sang till it grew immortal; For that very song of mine, When re-echoed behind the Portal, Was filled with a life divine.

Was the Chamber a silver round Of arches, whose magical art Drew in coils of musical sound, And cast them back on my heart?

Was there hidden within a lyre Which, as air breathed over its strings, Filled my song with a soul of fire, And sent back my words with wings?

Was some seraph imprisoned there, Whose voice made my song complete, And whose lingering, soft despair, Made the echo so faint and sweet?

Long I trembled and paused--then parted The curtains with heavy fringe; And, half fearing, yet eager-hearted Turned the door on its golden hinge.

Now I sing in the court once more, I sing and I weep all day, As I kneel by the close-shut door, For I know what the echoes say.

Yet I sing not the song of old, Ere I knew whence the echo came, Ere I opened the door of gold; But the music sounds just the same.

Then take warning, and turn away Do not ask of that hidden thing, Do not guess what the echoes say, Or the meaning of what I sing.

VERSE: HEARTS

I.

A trinket made like a Heart, dear, Of red gold, bright and fine, Was given to me for a keepsake, Given to me for mine.

And another heart, warm and tender, As true as a heart could be; And every throb that stirred it Was always and all for me.

Sailing over the waters, Watching the far blue land, I dropped my golden heart, dear, Dropped it out of my hand!

It lies in the cold blue waters, Fathoms and fathoms deep, The golden heart which I promised, Promised to prize and keep.

Gazing at Life's bright visions, So false, and fair, and new, I forgot the other heart, dear, Forgot it and lost it too!

I might seek that heart for ever, I might seek and seek in vain;-- And for one short, careless hour, I pay with a life of pain.

II.

The Heart?--Yes I wore it As sign and as token Of a love that once gave it, A vow that was spoken; But a love, and a vow, and a heart Can be broken.

The Love?--Life and Death Are crushed into a day, So what wonder that Love Should as soon pass away-- What wonder I saw it Fade, fail, and decay.

The Vow?--why what was it, It snapped like a thread: Who cares for the corpse When the spirit is fled? Then I said, "Let the Dead rise And bury its dead,

"While the true, living future Grows pure, wise, and strong" So I cast the gold heart, I had worn for so long, In the Lake, and bound on it A Stone--and a Wrong!

III.

Look, this little golden Heart Was a true-love shrine For a tress of hair; I held them, Heart and tress, as mine, Like the Love which gave the token See to-day the Heart is broken!

Broken is the golden heart, Lost the tress of hair; Ah, the shrine is empty, vacant, Desolate, and bare! So the token should depart, When Love dies within the heart.

Fast and deep the river floweth, Floweth to the west; I will cast the golden trinket In its cold dark breast,-- Flow, oh river, deep and fast, Over all the buried past!

VERSE: TWO LOVES

Deep within my heart of hearts, dear, Bound with all its strings, Two Loves are together reigning Both are crowned like Kings; While my life, still uncomplaining, Rests beneath their wings.

So they both will rule my heart, dear, Till it cease to beat; No sway can be deeper, stronger, Truer, more complete; Growing, as it lasts the longer, Sweeter, and more sweet.

One all life and time transfigures, Piercing through and through Meaner things with magic splendour, Old, yet ever new: This,--so strong and yet so tender,-- Is . . . my Love for you.

Should it fail,--forgive my doubting In this world of pain,-- Yet my other Love would ever Steadfastly remain; And I know that I could never Turn to that in vain.

Though its radiance may be fainter, Yet its task is wide; For it lives to comfort sorrows, Strengthen, calm, and guide, And from Trust and Honour borrows All its peace and pride.

Will you blame my dreaming even If the first were flown? Ah, I would not live without it, It is all your own: And the other--can you doubt it?-- Yours, and yours alone.

VERSE: A WOMAN'S LAST WORD

Well--the links are broken, All is past; This farewell, when spoken, Is the last. I have tried and striven All in vain; Such bonds must be riven, Spite of pain, And never, never, never Knit again.

So I tell you plainly, It must be: I shall try, not vainly, To be free; Truer, happier chances Wait me yet, While you, through fresh fancies, Can forget;-- And life has nobler uses Than Regret.

All past words retracing, One by one, Does not help effacing What is done. Let it be. Oh, stronger Links can break! Had we dreamed still longer We could wake,-- Yet let us part in kindness For Love's sake.

Bitterness and sorrow Will at last, In some bright to-morrow, Heal their past; But future hearts will never Be as true As mine was--is ever, Dear, for you . . . . . . Then must we part, when loving As we do?

VERSE: PAST AND PRESENT

"Linger," I cried, "oh radiant Time! thy power Has nothing more to give; life is complete: Let but the perfect Present, hour by hour, Itself remember and itself repeat.

"And Love,--the future can but mar its splendour, Change can but dim the glory of its youth; Time has no star more faithful or more tender, To crown its constancy or light its truth."

But Time passed on in spite of prayer or pleading, Through storm and peril; but that life might gain A Peace through strife all other peace exceeding, Fresh joy from sorrow, and new hope from pain.

And since Love lived when all save Love was dying, And, passed through fire, grew stronger than before:- Dear, you know why, in double faith relying, I prize the Past much, but the Present more.

VERSE: FOR THE FUTURE

I wonder did you ever count The value of one human fate; Or sum the infinite amount Of one heart's treasures, and the weight Of Life's one venture, and the whole concentrate purpose of a soul.

And if you ever paused to think That all this in your hands I laid Without a fear:- did you not shrink From such a burthen? half afraid, Half wishing that you could divide the risk, or cast it all aside.

While Love has daily perils, such As none foresee and none control; And hearts are strung so that one touch, Careless or rough, may jar the whole, You well might feel afraid to reign with absolute power of joy and pain.

You well might fear--if Love's sole claim Were to be happy: but true Love Takes joy as solace, not as aim, And looks beyond, and looks above; And sometimes through the bitterest strife first learns to live her highest life.

Earth forges joy into a chain Till fettered Love forgets its strength, Its purpose, and its end;--but Pain Restores its heritage at length, And bids Love rise again and be eternal, mighty, pure, and free.

If then your future life should need A strength my Love can only gain Through suffering, or my heart be freed Only by sorrow, from some stain-- Then you shall give, and I will take, this Crown of fire for Love's dear sake.

Sept. 8th, 1860.