A Century of Roundels Part 4

A rose in June's most honied heat, When life makes keen the kindling sod, Was not so soft and warm and sweet.

Their pilgrimage's period A few swift moons have seen complete Since mother's hands first clasped and shod The little feet.

III.

The little hands that never sought Earth's prizes, worthless all as sands, What gift has death, G.o.d's servant, brought The little hands?

We ask: but love's self silent stands, Love, that lends eyes and wings to thought To search where death's dim heaven expands.

Ere this, perchance, though love know nought, Flowers fill them, grown in lovelier lands, Where hands of guiding angels caught The little hands.

IV.

The little eyes that never knew Light other than of dawning skies, What new life now lights up anew The little eyes?

Who knows but on their sleep may rise Such light as never heaven let through To lighten earth from Paradise?

No storm, we know, may change the blue Soft heaven that haply death descries No tears, like these in ours, bedew The little eyes.

V.

Was life so strange, so sad the sky, So strait the wide world's range, He would not stay to wonder why Was life so strange?

Was earth's fair house a joyless grange Beside that house on high Whence Time that bore him failed to estrange?

That here at once his soul put by All gifts of time and change, And left us heavier hearts to sigh 'Was life so strange?'

VI.

Angel by name love called him, seeing so fair The sweet small frame; Meet to be called, if ever man's child were, Angel by name.

Rose-bright and warm from heaven's own heart he came, And might not bear The cloud that covers earth's wan face with shame.

His little light of life was all too rare And soft a flame: Heaven yearned for him till angels hailed him there Angel by name.

VII.

The song that smiled upon his birthday here Weeps on the grave that holds him undefiled Whose loss makes bitterer than a soundless tear The song that smiled.

His name crowned once the mightiest ever styled Sovereign of arts, and angel: fate and fear Knew then their master, and were reconciled.

But we saw born beneath some tenderer sphere Michael, an angel and a little child, Whose loss bows down to weep upon his bier The song that smiled.

ONE OF TWAIN

I.

One of twain, twin-born with flowers that waken, Now hath pa.s.sed from sense of sun and rain: Wind from off the flower-crowned branch hath shaken One of twain.

One twin flower must pa.s.s, and one remain: One, the word said soothly, shall be taken, And another left: can death refrain?

Two years since was love's light song mistaken, Blessing then both blossoms, half in vain?

Night outspeeding light hath overtaken One of twain.

II.

Night and light? O thou of heart unwary, Love, what knowest thou here at all aright, Lured, abused, misled as men by fairy Night and light?

Haply, where thine eyes behold but night, Soft as o'er her babe the smile of Mary Light breaks flowerwise into new-born sight.

What though night of light to thee be chary?

What though stars of hope like flowers take flight?

Seest thou all things here, where all see vary Night and light?

DEATH AND BIRTH

Death and birth should dwell not near together: Wealth keeps house not, even for shame, with dearth: Fate doth ill to link in one brief tether Death and birth.

Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the girth Seems that girds them each with each: yet whether Death be best, who knows, or life on earth?

Ill the rose-red and the sable feather Blend in one crown's plume, as grief with mirth: Ill met still are warm and wintry weather, Death and birth.

BIRTH AND DEATH

Birth and death, twin-sister and twin-brother, Night and day, on all things that draw breath, Reign, while time keeps friends with one another Birth and death.

Each brow-bound with flowers diverse of wreath, Heaven they hail as father, earth as mother, Faithful found above them and beneath.

Smiles may lighten tears, and tears may smother Smiles, for all that joy or sorrow saith: Joy nor sorrow knows not from each other Birth and death.

BENEDICTION

Blest in death and life beyond man's guessing Little children live and die, possest Still of grace that keeps them past expressing Blest.