DECEMBER H OAR Time about the house betakes him slow, Seeking an entry for his weariness; And in that dreadful company Distress And the sad Night with silent footsteps go. REGRET I HOLD it now more shameful to forget Make choice of pain, my Father, I will pray "The world is fair," the elder spirit saith, Wait consolations and surprises rare." But youth still cries, "The love that was my faith Is broken, and the ruined shrine is bare And I am all alone for evermore." G AILY and greenly let my seasons run: And should the war-winds of the world uproot The sanctities of life, and its sweet fruit Cast forth as fuel for the fiery sun; The dews be turned to ice; fair days begun In peace wear out in pain, and sounds that suit SUFFERING Ο H ye, all ye, who suffer here below, Schooled in the baffling mystery of pain, Nay, that it shall be for the whole world's gain, Thus in some new-found land, where no man's feet The winners spring who carve a conquering way— THE AGNOSTIC [OT in the hour of peril, thronged with foes, N° Panting to set their heel upon my head, Or when alone from many wounds I bled But when resurgent from the womb of night By sunbeams on their missionary flight; When heaven-kissed Earth laughs, garmented in light;— That is the hour in which I miss my God. |