From His first glory and cast away
On His own world, for me alone
To hold in hands created, crying--Son!

XIII.

That tear fell not on Thee
Beloved, yet Thou stirrest in Thy slumber!
Thou, stirring not for glad sounds out of number
Which through the vibratory palm-trees run
From summer wind and bird,
So quickly hast Thou heard
A tear fall silently?--
Wak'st Thou, O loving One?

_Elizabeth Barrett Browning._

FOOTNOTE:

[M] It is a Jewish tradition that Moses died of the kisses of God's
lips.

A BEDSIDE DITTY.

Baby, baby dear,
Earth and heaven are near
Now, for heaven is here.

Heaven is every place
Where your flower-sweet face
Fills our eyes with grace.

Till your own eyes deign
Earth a glance again,
Earth and heaven are twain.

Now your sleep is done,
Shine, and show the sun
Earth and heaven are one.

_Algernon Charles Swinburne._

GIVEN BACK ON CHRISTMAS MORN.

(A MOTHER WATCHES BY HER SICK BABE.)

Round about the casement
Wail the winds of winter;
Shaken from the frozen eaves
Many an icy splinter.
On the hillside, in the hollow,
Weaving wreaths of snow:
Now in gusts of solemn music
Lost in murmurs low;
Howling now across the wold
In its shroudlike vastness,
Like the wolves about a fold
In some Alpine fastness,
Hungered by the cold.

(THE MOTHER SINGS.)

Babe of mine--babe of mine,
Must I lose you?
Dare I weep if the Divine
Will should choose you?--
Ah, to mourn, as I have smiled,
At the thought of you, my child!
Ah, my child--my child!

Babe of mine--you entwine
With existence!
If one strips the clinging vine
There's resistance--
Shall not I then----? I talk wild,
Seeing Death so near my child:--
Ah, my child--my child!

Babe of mine--heart's best wine--
Life's pure essence!
Gloomy shadows, that define
Death's near presence.
Dim those dear eyes, undefiled
As God's violets--ah, my child:
Ah, my child--my child!

The imperial purple of the night
Is spread, wine-dark, above,
But glistens with no gems of light,
To hint of Heaven's love.
A sombre pall hangs overhead,
Fringed with lurid clouds of lead,--
O'er the sleeping earth below
One long, wide waste of silent snow,
And the wind moans drearily
As i