And will the man of modern years
—Stern on the Vote—withhold from thee,
Thou prop, thou cross, erect, in tears,
Catherine, the service of his knee?
CHIMES
Brief, on a flying night,
From the shaken tower,
A flock of bells take flight.
And go with the hour.
Like birds from the cote to the gales,
Abrupt—O hark!
A fleet of bells set sails,
And go to the dark.
Sudden the cold airs swing.
Alone, aloud,
A verse of bells takes wing
And flies with the cloud.
A POET'S WIFE
I saw a tract of ocean locked inland,
Within a field's embrace—
The very sea! Afar it fled the strand,
And gave the seasons chase,
And met the night alone, the tempest spanned,
Saw sunrise face to face.
O Poet, more than ocean, lonelier!
In inaccessible rest
And storm remote, thou, sea of thoughts, dost err
Scattered through east to west,—
Now, while thou closest with the kiss of her
Who locks thee to her breast.
MESSINA, 1908
Lord, Thou hast crushed Thy tender ones, o'erthrown
Thy strong, Thy fair; Thy man thou hast unmanned,
Thy elaborate works unwrought, Thy deeds undone,
Thy lovely sentiment human plan unplanned;
Destroyer, we have cowered beneath Thine own
Immediate, unintelligible hand.