AFTER TEA
See how the agèd trembling hands of Day
Spill over the white cloth and tea-cups blue,
Red wine from his last goblet poured away;
So let me by the window sit with you,
And watch the sun drop down behind the trees,
Or gleam across the snow—a crimson bar;
For in still, mystic moments such as these
Down unknown by-ways we may wander far.
The crimson turns to purple on the snow,
The orange sky grown gray, and glimmering lights
Of scattered star-lamps through the darkness glow;
But neither Night nor Death my soul affrights,
For clear there gleams, all earthly dark above,
The ever-burning star-lamp of your love.
THROUGH A LONG CLOISTER
Through a long cloister where the gloom of night
Lingers in sombre silence all the day,
Across worn pavements crumbling to decay
We wandered, blindly groping for the light.
A door swung wide, and splendour infinite
Streamed through the painted glass, and drove away
The lingering gloom from choir, nave and bay,
And a great minster's glory met our sight.
Blindly along life's cloister do we grope,
We seek a gate that leads to life immortal,
We see it loom before us dim and vast,
And doubt's dark shadow's veil the light of hope:
When lo, Death's hand flings wide the sombre portal,
And light unfading meets our gaze at last.
CATHEDRAL VESPERS
The gloom of night creeps down the shadowy choir,
But through the great rose-window's gorgeous bloom
Red shafts of sunset fall upon a tomb,
And makes the gray stone burn—a crimson pyre.
The creeping tide of darkness rises higher,
Tall ghostly pillars through the shadows loom,
And from dim altars through the minster's gloom,
Pale yellow gleams the guttering candles' fire.
Sudden from out the shadow streams a song,
—A sword of sound that cleaves the dark in twain—
And rings and glows triumphant, swift and strong,
Victorious over sorrow, death and pain;
And golden visions pass before my soul
As through dim arches the last echoes roll.