ty hands to wait
The sequel that the future shall unfold,--
The unwritten "Finis" of remorseless fate.
Vanquished they stand before oblivion's gate,
Knowing that soon the everlasting seal
Of destiny shall all obliterate
Their finished story, which, for woe or weal,
Shall be with Him who writ to hide or to reveal.

KENOTAPHION.

O wanderer! whoever thou mayest be,
I beg of thee to pass in silence here
And leave me with my empty sepulchre
Beside the ceaseless turmoil of the sea;
Pass me as one whom life's old tragedy
Hath made distraught--who now in dreams doth keep
His cherished dead, unmindful of her sleep
In ocean's bosom locked eternally!
Scorn not the foolish grave that I have made
Beside the deep sea of my soul's unrest,
But let me hope that when the storms are stayed
My phantom ship shall sail from out the west
Bringing the boon for which I long have prayed--
The broken vigil and the ended quest.

THE RED CROSS.

St. George, I learned to love thee in my youth
When of thy deeds I read in deathless song;
And now, when I behold the dragon Wrong
Hard by the castle-gates of Love and Truth,
I feel the world's great need of thee, forsooth,
To strike the heavy blow delayed too long.
Then turning from the mediaeval throng,
Where thou wert bravest, yet the first in ruth,
I watch thy votaries by land and sea
Armed with thy sacred sign go forth to fight
Anew the battle of humanity
Beneath the flag of mercy and of right;
No holier band a holier realm e'er trod
Than this--the world's knight-errantry of God!

MIDSUMMER NOON.

Through shimmering skies the big clouds slowly sail;
A faint breeze lingers in the rustling beech;
Atop the withered oak with vagrant speech
The brawling crows call down the sleepy vale;
Unseen the glad cicadas trill their tale
Of deep content in changeless vibrant screech,
And where the old fence rambles out of reach,
The drowsy lizard hugs the shaded rail.
Warm odors from the hayfield wander by,
Afar the homing reaper's noontide tune
Floats on the mellow stillness like a sigh;
One butterfly, ghost of a vanished June,
Soars dimly where in realms of purple sky
Dips the wan crescent of the vapory moon.

THE SNOW MAN.