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And verse and music uttered rarer

Tones of more godlike speech;

Though the utmost life of life's best hours
Found, as it cannot now find, words;
Though desert sands were sweet as flowers,
And flowers could sing like birds:

But children never heard them, never

They felt a child's foot leap and run,-
This were a drearier star than ever
Yet looked upon the sun.

WH

A CHILD'S FUTURE

HAT will it please you, my darling, hereafter to be?
Fame upon land will you look for, or glory by sea?
Gallant your life will be always, and all of it free.

Free as the wind when the heart of the twilight is stirred
Eastward, and sounds from the springs of the sunrise are

heard;

Free-and we know not another as infinite word.

Darkness or twilight or sunlight may compass us round,
Hate may arise up against us, or hope may confound;
Love may forsake us: yet may not the spirit be bound.

Free in oppression of grief as in ardor of joy,
Still may the soul be, and each to her strength as a toy;
Free in the glance of the man as the smile of the boy.

Freedom alone is the salt and the spirit that gives

Life, and without her is nothing that verily lives:

Death cannot slay her; she laughs upon death, and forgives.

Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar,

Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star;

Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are.

England and liberty bless you and keep you to be

Worthy the name of their child and the sight of their sea: Fear not at all; for a slave, if he fears not, is free.

XXIV-896

ADIEUX À MARIE STUART

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UEEN, for whose house my fathers fought,
With hopes that rose and fell,
Red star of boyhood's fiery thought,
Farewell.

They gave their lives, and I, my queen,
Have given you of my life,

Seeing your brave star burn high between
Men's strife.

The strife that lightened round their spears
Long since fell still: so long
Hardly may hope to last in years

My song.

But still through strife of time and thought Your light on me too fell;

Queen, in whose name we sang or fought,

Farewell.

II

There beats no heart on either border
Wherethrough the north blasts blow
But keeps your memory as a warder
His beacon-fire aglow.

Long since it fired with love and wonder
Mine, for whose April age

Blithe midsummer made banquet under
The shade of Hermitage.

Soft sang the burn's blithe notes, that gather
Strength to ring true;

And air and trees and sun and heather
Remembered you.

Old border ghosts of fight or fairy

Or love or teen,

These they forgot, remembering Mary

The Queen.

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Queen once of Scots, and ever of yours Whose sires brought forth for you Their lives to strew your way like flowers, Adieu.

Dead is full many a dead man's name,
Who died for you this long

Time past: shall this too fare the same,
My song?

But surely, though it die or live,
Your face was worth

All that a man may think to give
On earth.

No darkness cast of years between
Can darken you;

Man's love will never bid my queen
Adieu.

IV

Love hangs like light about your name
As music round the shell;

No heart can take of you a tame
Farewell.

Yet, when your very face was seen,
Ill gifts were yours for giving;
Love gat strange guerdons of my queen
When living.

Oh, diamond heart unflawed and clear, The whole world's crowning jewel!

Was ever heart so deadly dear

So cruel?

Yet none for you of all that bled

Grudged once one drop that fell:

Not one to life reluctant said

Farewell.

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V

Strange love they have given you, love disloyal,
Who mock with praise your name,

To leave a head so rare and royal

Too low for praise or blame.

You could not love nor hate, they tell us;
You had nor sense nor sting:

In God's name, then, what plague befell us
To fight for such a thing?

"Some faults the gods will give," to fetter
Man's highest intent;

But surely you were something better
Than innocent!

No maid that strays with steps unwary
Through snares unseen,

But one to live and die for: Mary,
The Queen.

VI

Forgive them all their praise, who blot
Your fame with praise of you;
Then love may say, and falter not,

Adieu.

Yet some you hardly would forgive
Who did you much less wrong
Once; but resentment should not live
Too long.

They never saw your lip's bright bow,
Your sword-bright eyes,—

The bluest of heavenly things below
The skies.

Clear eyes that love's self finds most like

A sword-blade's blue,

A sword-blade's ever keen to strike

Adieu.

VII

Though all things breathe or sound of fight
That yet make up your spell,

To bid you were to bid the light
Farewell.

Farewell the song says only, being
A star whose race is run;
Farewell the soul says never, seeing
The sun.

Yet, well-nigh as with flash of tears,
The song must say but so

That took your praise up twenty years

Ago.

More bright than stars or moons that vary,
Sun kindling heaven and hell,

Here, after all these years, Queen Mary,
Farewell.

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