That deeper hour when Night with Dawn is blent,
And Silence stirs, its languors well-nigh spent,
I hear her gently sigh with sweet content.
I hear young children laughing in the street:
Catch rays of sunshine from them as we meet,
And smile content to know what makes them sweet.
Yea, everywhere, in every righteous strife,
I find her spirit's fragrant influence rife,
Like Mary's precious spikenard sweetening Life.
MATTHEW ARNOLD
He challenged all that came within his ken,
And Error held with steadfast mind aloof.
E'en Truth itself he put upon the proof:
Holding that Light was God's first gift to men.
THE STRANGER
Straying one day amid the leafy bowers,
A Presence passed, masked in a sunny ray,
Tossing behind him carelessly the hours,
As one shakes blossoms from a ravished spray,—
Strewing them far and wide.
Nor glanced to either side.
A-sudden as he strolled he chanced upon
A flower which full within his pathway blew,
White as a lily, modest as a nun,
Sweeter than Lilith's rose in Eden grew—
Her beauty he espied,
Approached and softly sighed.