COLD

OLD is the winter day, misty and dark:
The sunless sky with faded gleams is rent;
And patches of thin snow outlying, mark
The landscape with a drear disfigurement.

The trees their mournful branches lift aloft :
The oak with knotty twigs is full of trust,
With bud-thronged bough the cherry in the croft;
The chestnut holds her gluey knops upthrust.

No birds sing, but the starling chaps his bill
And chatters mockingly; the new-born lambs
Within their straw-built fold beneath the hill

Answer with plaintive cry their bleating dams.

Their voices melt in welcome dreams of spring,
Green grass and leafy trees and sunny skies:
My fancy decks the woods, the thrushes sing,
Meadows are gay, bees hum, and scents arise.

And God the Maker doth my heart grow bold
To praise for wintry works not understood,
Who all the worlds and ages doth behold,
Evil and good as one, and all as good.

ROBERT BRIDGES

SUR

LOVE

URELY one star above all stars shall brighten,
Leading for ever where the Lord is laid;

One revelation through all years enlighten

Steps of bewilderment and eyes afraid.

Love was believing--and the best was truest;

Love would hope ever-and the trust was gain; Love that endured shall learn that Thou renewest Love, even thine, O Master! with Thy pain.

F. W. H. MYERS

THE HEART OF A MOTHER

γου

were so far away,

Beyond all help from me;

And so, when skies were grey,

And clouds lowered threateningly, And the wailing storm-wind blew, My heart went out to you.

I always felt afraid

You were out in the stormy weather, The rain on your bonny head,

The wind and the rain together: Ah me! I never knew

What harm might come to you.

So many pains there are,

And perils by land and sea;
And each his cross must bear,
And each his weird must dree:

And it might be even then
You lived your hour of pain.

My fears were unavailing,

You are so safe for aye-
My dear, who went a-sailing

On death's wide sea one day :
You answer not my call
Across the grey sea-wall.

I follow with wet eyes
Your boat's long lonely track,
But vex you not with sighs,

Nor would that you were back:
Your boat with sails of snow
Came safe to port, I know.

Oh, is the new land fair
That you have journeyed to,
With floods of amber air,

And hills of marvellous hue,
And a city's shining spires
Fashioned of day-dawn's fires?

Oh, is it a pleasant country
That you have come unto,
With birds in the greenwood tree,
And clouds above in the blue,
And shade beneath the trees,
Where the weary dream at ease?

And little children playing

On a green and golden mead,
And One o'er the greensward straying
Whose face I know indeed-
The dead face on the rood,
The dear face, kind and good?

Oh, safe for evermore,

With never a weird to dree:
Is any burden sore

When one's beloved goes free?
Come pain, come woe to me,
My well-beloved goes free!

You are so far away,

And yet have come so near;

On many a heavy day

I think of you, my dear, Safe in your shelter there,

Christ's hand upon your hair.

KATHARINE TYNAN-HINKSON

LIFE

LA vie est vaine :

Un peu d'amour,

Un peu de haine,
Et puis-bon jour.

La vie est brève,
Un peu d'espoir,
Un peu de rêve,
Et puis-bon soir.

MONTENÄECHEN