E'en so-but why the tale reveal

Of those, whom year by year unchanged,
Brief absence joined anew to feel,

Astounded, soul from soul estranged?

At dead of night their sails were filled,
And onward each rejoicing steered-
Ah, neither blame, for neither willed,
Or wist, what first with dawn appeared.

To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
Through winds and tides one compass guides-
To that, and your own selves, be true.

But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,
Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,
On your wide plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last.

One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold where'er they fare,-
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!
At last, at last, unite them there.

"WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING"

(From the same)

It fortifies my soul to know

That, though I perish, Truth is so:
That, howsoe'er I stray and range,
Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change.
I steadier step when I recall
That, if I slip Thou dost not fall.

SAY NOT, THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH

(From the same)

Say not, the struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,

Where daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.

THE STREAM OF LIFE

(From the same)

O stream descending to the sea,
Thy mossy banks between,
The flow'rets blow, the grasses grow,
The leafy trees are green.

In garden plots the children play,
The fields the labourers till,
And houses stand on either hand,
And thou descendest still.

O life descending unto death,
Our waking eyes behold,
Parent and friend thy lapse attend,
Companions young and old.

Strong purposes our minds possess,
Our hearts affections fill,

We toil and earn, we seek and learn,
And thou descendest still.

O end to which our currents tend,
Inevitable sea,

To which we flow, what do we know,
What shall we guess of thee?

A roar we hear upon thy shore,
As we our course fulfil;

Scarce we divine a sun will shine
And be above us still.

James Thomson

1834-1882

(From Sunday up the River, written 1865)

Give a man a horse he can ride,

Give a man a boat he can sail;

And his rank and wealth, his strength and health On sea nor shore shall fail.

Give a man a pipe he can smoke,

Give a man a book he can read;
And his home is bright with a calm delight,
Though the rooms be poor indeed.

Give a man a girl he can love,

As I, O my Love, love thee;

And his hand is great with the pulse of Fate,
At home, on land, on sea.

(From Sunday at Hampstead, written 1863-1865)

O mellow moonlight warm,

Weave round my Love a charm;

O countless, starry eyes
Watch from the holy skies;
O ever-solemn night,

Shield her within thy might:
Watch her, my little one!
Shield her, my darling!

How my heart shrinks with fear,
Nightly to leave thee, dear;
Lovely and pure within,
Vast glooms of woe and sin:
Our wealth of love and bliss
Too heavenly-perfect is:
Good-night, my little one!
God keep thee, darling!

Frederic William Henry Myers

1843-1901

THE INNER LIGHT

(From Saint Paul, 1867)

Lo, if some pen should write upon your rafter MENE and MENE in the folds of flame, Think you could any memories thereafter Wholly retrace the couplet as it came?

Lo, if some strange intelligible thunder
Sang to the earth the secret of a star,
Scarce could ye catch, for terror and for wonder,
Shreds of the story that was peal'd so far.

Scarcely I catch the words of His revealing,
Hardly I hear Him, dimly understand,
Only the Power that is within me pealing
Lives on my lips and beckons to my hand.

Whoso has felt the Spirit of the Highest

Cannot confound nor doubt Him nor deny: Yea, with one voice, O world, though thou deniest, Stand thou on that side, for on this am I.

Rather the earth shall doubt when her retrieving
Pours in the rain and rushes from the sod,
Rather than he for whom the great conceiving
Stirs in his soul to quicken into God.

Ay, though thou then shouldst strike him from his glory

Blind and tormented, madden'd and alone,

Even on the cross would he maintain his story,
Yes, and in hell would whisper, I have known.

Henry Austin Dobson

1840

A GENTLEMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL

(From Old World Idylls, 1883)

He lived in that past Georgian day,
When men were less inclined to say
That "Time is Gold," and overlay
With toil their pleasure;

He held some land, and dwelt thereon,—
Where, I forget,-the house is gone;
His Christian name, I think, was John,-
His surname, Leisure.