Consolation

Men prate of iron will in vain.
When the flesh gives with spirit strain
The colder nature, stronger frame,
Strong character but idly claim.

Now Reason reels upon her throne,
Dense dread about his spirit grown,
Who dares not breathe for fear to stir
Yon Horror slumbering close to her !

Madness, more awful-faced than all !
What may he do but shuddering fall
Upon the cold floor, praying Death
To save him and to take his breath ?

He feels that he has failed, has failed !
He hears it in the snow-storm wailed
Through this dim loveless chamber now
List those numb finger-taps of snow !

Death, pale dread friend, already here ?
Ah me ! for youth 'tis very drear.
With nestlings eager for the sky,
To be torn earthward ruthlessly !

Not one warm heart to pillow on —
P'old wings that would have sought the sun
It only rests for thee to weep
Thyself, a tired child, to sleep.

Is there no Father, one Divine ?
Ah ! vainly doth his ear incline
To shape thought's answering muffled roll
Through dim vast labyrinths of soul.

There may be the essential Love,
In whom !)oth he and all must move.
Or but a blind relentless arm,
That moulds and breaks with equal calm.

A still small voice, than thought more clear.
Thought's echo lost, he yet may hear :
" In faith of Love Supreme there can
Alone be formed a perfect man."

Not on the mount withdrawn He stood
To sing that storm and calm are good,
But walked Himself the whelming wave,
By love to smooth, by love to save !

" I am the Son of God," He saith :
Then grows the deep amen of Faith,
Who solemn chaunts, " Yea, God is love.
In whom we shall victorious prove ! "

He cannot hear — the storm is loud
And blinds him with a snowy shroud —
On those lone heights with catching breath
He flounders o'er the steep of death !

Yet till the last frail fibre of strength
Hath snapped, hold on — help speeds at lengthl
Yea, even in falling, arms outspread
To take chill darkness of the dead,

A hand may grasp, a bosom receive.
And warm thine own faint heart to live ;
Embracing Death may change to one
Who pours life's own elixir down !

Then ere the dying, if thou bind
True mate to thee, thy heart shall find
A simple girl excels thy dream,
As fruit its like in troubled stream.

Then when some dark mood passes by,
How sweet upon that breast to lie,
And feel the tremulous twilight swim
Of limpid eye sad love may brim !

Some guileless maid may wait for thee,
My brother, though thou canst not see !
Yet even if thy life must droop
Ere ripening of thy fondest hope,

XVIII
'Tis in the arms of Love thy fall :
Faith shakes her head serene at all
Her subtle sophist-questioners,
And childlike " So it is " avers.