III
Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly, Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong; Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly, While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
And we swing, swing, While your branches sing, And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
OVERLOOKED
Sleep, with her tender balm, her touch so kind, Has passed me by; Afar I see her vesture, velvet-lined, Float silently; O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need of thee!
Is thy sweet kiss not meant to-night for me?
Peace, with the blessings that I longed for so, Has passed me by; Where'er she folds her holy wings I know All tempests die; O! Peace, my tired soul had need of thee!
Is thy sweet kiss denied alone to me?
Love, with her heated touches, passion-stirred, Has passed me by.
I called, "O stay thy flight," but all unheard My lonely cry: O! Love, my tired heart had need of thee!
Is thy sweet kiss withheld alone from me?
Sleep, sister-twin of Peace, my waking eyes So weary grow!
O! Love, thou wanderer from Paradise, Dost thou not know How oft my lonely heart has cried to thee?
But Thou, and Sleep, and Peace, come not to me.
FASTING
'Tis morning now, yet silently I stand, Uplift the curtain with a weary hand, Look out while darkness overspreads the way, And long for day.
Calm peace is frighted with my mood to-night, Nor visits my dull chamber with her light, To guide my senses into her sweet rest And leave me blest.
Long hours since the city rocked and sung Itself to slumber: only the stars swung Aloft their torches in the midnight skies With watchful eyes.
No sound awakes; I, even, breathe no sigh, Nor hear a single footstep passing by; Yet I am not alone, for now I feel A presence steal
Within my chamber walls; I turn to see The sweetest guest that courts humanity; With subtle, slow enchantment draws she near, And Sleep is here.
What care I for the olive branch of Peace?
Kind Sleep will bring a thrice-distilled release, Nepenthes, that alone her mystic hand Can understand.
And so she bends, this welcome sorceress, To crown my fasting with her light caress.
Ah, sure my pain will vanish at the bliss Of her warm kiss.
But still my duty lies in self-denial; I must refuse sweet Sleep, although the trial Will reawaken all my depth of pain.
So once again
I lift the curtain with a weary hand, With more than sorrow, silently I stand, Look out while darkness overspreads the way, And long for day.
"Go, Sleep," I say, "before the darkness die, To one who needs you even more than I, For I can bear my part alone, but he Has need of thee.
"His poor tired eyes in vain have sought relief, His heart more tired still, with all its grief; His pain is deep, while mine is vague and dim, Go thou to him.
"When thou hast fanned him with thy drowsy wings, And laid thy lips upon the pulsing strings That in his soul with fret and fever burn, To me return."
She goes. The air within the quiet street Reverberates to the passing of her feet; I watch her take her passage through the gloom To your dear home.
Beloved, would you knew how sweet to me Is this denial, and how fervently I pray that Sleep may lift you to her breast, And give you rest--
A privilege that she alone can claim.
Would that my heart could comfort you the same, But in the censer Sleep is swinging high, All sorrows die.
She comes not back, yet all my miseries Wane at the thought of your calm sleeping eyes-- Wane, as I hear the early matin bell The dawn foretell.
And so, dear heart, still silently I stand, Uplift the curtain with a weary hand, The long, long night has bitter been and lone, But now 'tis gone.
Dawn lights her candles in the East once more, And darkness flees her chariot before; The Lenten morning breaks with holy ray, And it is day!
CHRISTMASTIDE
I may not go to-night to Bethlehem, Nor follow star-directed ways, nor tread The paths wherein the shepherds walked, that led To Christ, and peace, and God's good will to men.
I may not hear the Herald Angel's song Peal through the Oriental skies, nor see The wonder of that Heavenly company Announce the King the world had waited long.
The manger throne I may not kneel before, Or see how man to God is reconciled, Through pure St. Mary's purer, holier child; The human Christ these eyes may not adore.
I may not carry frankincense and myrrh With adoration to the Holy One; Nor gold have I to give the Perfect Son, To be with those wise kings a worshipper.
Not mine the joy that Heaven sent to them, For ages since Time swung and locked his gates, But I may kneel without--the star still waits To guide me on to holy Bethlehem.
CLOSE BY
So near at hand (our eyes o'erlooked its nearness In search of distant things) A dear dream lay--perchance to grow in dearness Had we but felt its wings Astir. The air our very breathing fanned It was so near at hand.
Once, many days ago, we almost held it, The love we so desired; But our shut eyes saw not, and fate dispelled it Before our pulses fired To flame, and errant fortune bade us stand Hand almost touching hand.
I sometimes think had we two been discerning, The by-path hid away From others' eyes had then revealed its turning To us, nor led astray Our footsteps, guiding us into love's land That lay so near at hand.
So near at hand, dear heart, could we have known it!
Throughout those dreamy hours, Had either loved, or loving had we shown it, Response had sure been ours; We did not know that heart could heart command, And love so near at hand!
What then availed the red wine's subtle glisten?