Heaven was above the earth,
  I knew, I knew, my sweet,
I was not worthy to touch the shoes
  That covered your dainty feet.

I knew as you laid your hand in mine,
  So kind as I turned away,
That we were severed as wide apart,
  That hour, as we are to-day,
And you in your stately English home,
  So far, so far away.

That soft white hand you laid in mine
  With a smile as I turned to go,
Oh, Lady Maud, I marvel
  If you ever stoop so low,
As to wonder what those tears meant,
  That glittered on its snow.

But I know if you had dreamed the truth
  Your beautiful dark brown eyes
Would only have grown more gentle,
  With a sorrowful surprise;
For a nobler and a kinder heart
  Ne'er beat beneath the skies.

You never meant to give me pain,
  But oh, 'twas a cruel good,
I so low in the world's esteem,
  You of such noble blood,
That you stooped to as gentle words and deeds,
  As ever an angel could.

I blessed you for your brightness
  When you came unto our shore,
For the dull earth caught a beauty
  It never had before;
But you left a lonesome shadow,
  That will lie there evermore.

How proud the good ship bore you
  Adown the golden bay,
The sun's last light upon its sails—
  I stood there mournfully;
For I know it left the darkness—
  Took the sunlight all away.

THE HAUNTED CASTLE.

It stands alone on a haunted shore,
With curious words of deathless lore
  On its massive gate impearled;
And its carefully guarded mystic key
Locks in its silent mystery
  From the seeking eyes of the world.

Oft do its stately walls repeat
Echoes of music wildly sweet
  Swelling to gladness high—
With mournful ballads of ancient time,
And funeral hymns—and a nursery rhyme
  Dying away in a sigh.

Pictures out of each haunted room,
Up through the ghostly shadows loom,
  And gleam with a spectral light;
Pictures lit with a radiant glow,
And some that image such desolate woe
  That, weeping, you turn from the sight.

Shining like stars in the twilight gloom
Brows as white as a lily's bloom
  Gleam from its lattice and door;
And voices soft as a seraph's note,
Through its mysterious chambers float
  Back from eternity's shore.

In the mournful silence of midnight air
You hear on its stately and winding stair
  The echoes of fairy feet.
Gentle footsteps that lightly fall
Through the enchanted castle hall,
  And up in the golden street.

And still in a dark forsaken tower,
Crowned with a withered cypress flower,
  Is a bowed head turned away;
A face like carved marble white,
Sweet eyes drooping away from the light,
  Shunning the eye of day.

And oft when the light burns low and dim
A haggard form ungainly and grim
  Unbidden enters the door;
With chiding eyes whose burning light
You fain would bury in darkness and night,
  Never to meet you more.

Mysteries strange its still walls keep,
Strange are the forms that through it sweep—
  Walking by night and by day.
But evermore will the castle hall
Echo their footsteps' phantom fall,
  Till its walls shall crumble away.

THE STORY OF GLADYS.

"I leave my child to Heaven." And with these words
Upon her lips, the Lady Mildred passed
Unto the rest prepared for her pure soul;
Words that meant only this: I cannot trust
Unto her earthly parent my young child,
So leave her to her heavenly Father's care;
And Heaven was gentle to the motherless,
And fair and sweet the maiden, Gladys, grew,
A pure white rose in the old castle set,
The while her father rioted abroad.

But as the day drew near when he should give,
By his dead lady's will, his child her own,
He having basely squandered all her wealth
To him intrusted, to his land returned,
And thrilled her trusting heart with terrors vague,
Of peril, of some shame to come to him,
Did she not yield unto his prayer—command,
That she would to Our Lady's convent go,
Forget the world and save him from disgrace.

But hidden as she had been all her life
From tender human ties, she loved the world
With all her loving heart, the fresh, free world
That God had made, and this life seemed to her
As but a living death. A living tomb
The harsh stone walls that from the convent frowned
Upon the peaceful valley sweet with flowers.
The beautiful green valley, threaded by
Bright rivulets that sought the quiet lake,
Dear haunts sought daily by her maiden feet.
And "wilt thou not, for my sake?" and "thou shalt
To save thy sire from shame!" so wore the days,
And still she did not promise, though she wept
At his wild pleadings, trembled at his rage;
Then of her mother's dying words he thought—
Her dying words—"I leave my child to Heaven."
And twisting them with his own wishes, wove
A chain therewith that bound her wavering will;
A chain made mighty by the golden threads
Of rev'rence and of holy memories.
And so with heavy heart she gave her vow,
That in the autumn she would leave the world,
But first for one free summer did she pray.

And through those bright spring days she roamed abroad,
And poured upon the winds her low complaints;
The while her dark soft eyes sought all the earth,
The beauteous earth that she too soon must leave;
And all her mournful murmurs ended thus
With this sad cry of, "Oh, the happy world!"
Ended with these low words as a sigh,
I will obey, but, "oh, the happy world!"

Oh, wondrous beauty of the morning skies!
  Oh, wide green fields with beady dew impearled!
The lark soars upward, singing as she flies,
  Oh, wave of free, swift wings, oh, happy world!

Oh, wordless wonder of the evening sky,
  Far ivory citadels with flags unfurled;
Deep sapphire seas where rosy fleets float by
  The golden shores remote; oh, happy world!

Oh, my blue violets by the laughing brook!
  My shy, sweet darlings, in your green leaves curled,
Bright eyes, sometime you will all vainly look
  For me, your lover. Oh, the happy world!

So passed the days of spring, and she must sign
Dull papers to appease the hungry law,
And to the castle down a writer came;
No graybeard old, and dryer than his tomes,
A tall, fair-faced youth, with bright, bold gaze,
And blood that leaped afresh like crimson wine,
Rash blood that led him to leap o'er a gate
Five-barred, within the mossy park, upon
The knight's old stumbling steed that played him false
To its own harm, for which it lost its life,
More fortunate the youth, though bruised he,
And bleeding from his many grievous wounds,
And Gladys tended him with gentlest care
Till love crept in and took the place of pain,
And in her heart took Pity's weeping place
And dwelt a king. He knew she was the bride
Of Heaven,