endearing air
That everywhere
Must twine and fold and follow her, shall be
Rippled to ring on ring of melody,--
Music, like shadows from the joy of her,
Small starry Reveller!--
When from her triumphings,--
All frolic wings--
There soars beyond the glories of the height,
The laugh of her delight!

And it shall sound, until
Your heart stand still;
Shaken to human sight;
Struck through with tears and light;
One with the one desire
Unto that central Fire
Of Love the Sun, whence all we lighted are
Even from clod to star.

And all your glory, O most swift and sweet!--
And all your exultation only this;
To be the lowly and forgotten kiss
Beneath those feet.

You that must ever pass,--
You of the same wild way,--
The silver-bright good-bye without a look!--
You that would never stay,
For the beseeching grass ...
Brook!--

_You, Four Walls,
Wall not in my heart!
When the lovely night-time falls
All so welcomely,
Blinding, sweet hearth-fire,
Light of heart's desire,
Blind not, blind not me!
Unto them that weep apart,--
While you glow, within,
Wreckt, despairing kin,--
Dark with misery:
--Do not blind my heart!_

_You, close Heart!
Never hide from mine
Worlds that I divine
Through thy human dearness.
O beloved Nearness,
Hallow all I understand
With thy hand-in-hand;--
All the lights I seek,
With thy cheek-to-cheek;
All the loveliness I loved apart._

_You, heart's Home!--
Wall not in my heart._

CANTICLE OF THE BABE

I

Over the broken world, the dark gone by,
Horror of outcast darkness torn with wars;
And timeless agony
Of the white fire, heaped high by blinded Stars,
Unfaltering, unaghast;--
Out of the midmost Fire
At last,--at last,--
Cry! ...
O darkness' one desire,--
O darkness, have you heard?--
Black Chaos, blindly striving towards the Word?
--The Cry!

Behold thy conqueror, Death!
Behold, behold from whom
It flutters forth, that triumph of First-Breath,
Victorious one that can but breathe and cling,--
This pulsing flower,--this weaker than a wing,
Halcyon thing!--
Cradled above unfathomable doom.

II

Under my feet, O Death,
Under my trembling feet!
Back, through the gates of hell, now give me way.
I come.--I bring new Breath!
Over the trampled shards of mine own clay,
That smoulder still, and burn,
Lo, I return!
Hail, singing Light that floats
Pulsing with chorused motes:--
Hail to thee, Sun, that lookes