A jarring note, a chord amiss—
The music's sweeter after,
Like wrangling ended with a kiss,
Or tears, with silver laughter.
The high gods have no joys like these,
So sweet in human story;
No tempest rends their tranquil seas
Beyond the sunset glory.
The whirling wheels of Time and Fate
Fragment*
I thank Thee, Lord, who hast through devious ways
Led me to know Thy Praise,
And to this Wildernesse
Hast brought me out, Thine Israel to blesse.
If I should faint with Thirst, or weary, sink,
To these my Soule is Drink,
To these the Majick Rod
Is Life, and mine is hid with Christ in God.
————— * These are not properly dream-verses, having been suddenly presented to the waking vision one day in Paris while gazing at the bright sky. (Ed.)
Signs of the Times
Eyes of the dawning in heaven?
Sparks from the opening of hell?
Gleams from the altar-lamps seven?
Can you tell?
Is it the glare of a fire?
Is it the breaking of day?
Birth lights, or funeral pyre?
Who shall say?