travelled fast and far for this,--to take thee
by the hand.

A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would
bend his knee,
A mariner without a dream of what his port
would be,
So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to
thee.

O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary
place,
O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea
race,
The quiet room adorned with flowers where first
I saw thy face!

Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths
of foam!
The Power that made me wander far at last has
brought me home
To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more
will roam.

DEPARTURE

Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun,
And why is the garden so gay?
Do you know that my days of delight are done,
Do you know I am going away?
If you covered your face with a cloud, I'd dream
You were sorry for me in my pain,
And the heads of the flowers all bowed would
seem
To be weeping with me in the rain.

But why is your head so low, sweet heart,
And why are your eyes overcast?
Are they clouded because you know we must part,
Do you think this embrace is our last?
Then kiss me again, and again, and again,
Look up as you bid me good-bye!
For your face is too dear for the stain of a tear,
And your smile is the sun in my sky.

THE BLACK BIRDS

I

Once, only once, I saw it clear,--
That Eden every human heart has dreamed
A hundred times, but always far away!
Ah, well do I remember how it seemed,
Through the still atmosphere
Of that enchanted day,
To lie wide open to my weary feet:
A little land of love and joy and rest,
With meadows of soft green,
Rosy with cyclamen, and sweet
With delicate breath of violets unseen,--
And, tranquil 'mid the bloom
As if it waited for a coming guest,
A little house of peace and joy and love
Was nested like a snow-white dove

From the rough mountain where I stood,
Homesick for happiness,
Only a narrow valley and a darkling wood
To cross, and then the long distress
Of solitude would be forever past,--
I should be home at last.
But not too soon! oh, let me linger here
And feed my eyes, hungry with sorrow,
On all this loveliness, so near,
And mine to-morrow!

Then, from the wood, across the silvery blue,
A dark bird flew,
Silent, with sable wings.
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