id="p23"/>

TO AUDREY, AGED FOUR

Light feet, white feet, dancing down the ways,
Spilling out the honey from the flowery days,
May your paths forever flowery be and sweet,
Stony roads of sorrow wait not for your feet.

Light feet, white feet, as you older grow,
Fain are we to keep you from all care and woe;
But if thorn and brier in your roadway be,
Light feet, white feet, meet them merrily.

Light feet, white feet, as you dance along,
God, Who made you, keep you free from stain of wrong,
Give you song and sunshine, laughter, love and praise,
Light feet, white feet, dancing down the ways.

A LULLABY

Little brown feet, that have grown so weary,
Plodding on through the heat of day,
Mother will hold you, mother will fold you
Safe to her breast; little feet, rest;
Now is the time to cease from play.

Little brown hands, that through day's long hours
Never rested, be still at last;
Mother will rest you; come, then, and nest you
Here by her side, nestle and hide;
Creep to her heart and hold it fast.

Little brown head, on my shoulder lying,
Night is coming and day is dead;
Mother will sing you songs, that shall bring you
Childhood's soft sleep, quiet and deep;
Sweet be your dreams, O dear brown head.

O LITTLEST HANDS AND DEAREST

O littlest hands and dearest,
O golden heads and bright,
From out what dear dream country
Come you to me to-night?
For through the shadows falling
I hear your voices calling
Out of the magic spaces
Of infinite delight.

I see your curls a-glimmer,
I see your dear eyes shine,
I feel the childish fingers
Slipped softly into mine;
You bring me back the May-time,
The old, delightful play-time
When all the world was laughter
And life seemed half divine.

Thus, from the shades that gather
Around my path to-night
Your glad child-hands have drawn me
Back to your lands of light,
Giving me for my sadness
The medicine of your gladness,
O littlest hands and dearest,
O golden heads and bright.

A LOVE SONG

Love came to me once more,
His wings all drenched with rain;
Silent his singing lips,
His eyes were dark with pain.

Dead roses in his hands—
Gone were the flowers of yore;
Only a poor, grey ghost,
Love lingered at my door.

Wasted his rounded limbs
And grey his golden hair—
Poor, shadowy, silent God,
Who once had been so fair.

"O Love, great Love," I cried,
"Why come you thus to me?"
"I am Love's ghost," he said;
"Men name me Memory."

A SONG OF LOVE

Love came loitering down the way,
(Heart, but we two were young!)
Laughter light in his eyes there lay,
Music was on his tongue;
"Stay, Love, stay—walk with us, pray!
(Sweet were the songs he sung.)

Love with us goes wandering still,
(Heart, but his songs are sweet!)
Suns may shine, or the rains beat chill,
What matter cold or heat?
Blue or grey, Love goes our way;
(Summer follows his feet.)

Love, he has been a comrade true,
(Heart, how the seasons fly!)
Joy and Sorrow have found us too,
Greeted and passed us by;
So Love stay, they may go their way;
(And Love can never die.)

DEAD LOVE

Fold the hands, grown still and cold;
Lay ye by
The broken bow that shall feel his hold
Nevermore, while the seasons fly.
Draw the shroud above his eyes,
Love, that laughs an hour and dies.

Seek no more to entrance win
At his gate;
Silent now are the song and din,
Jest and dance, that were there of late.
Never more shall he arise,
Love, that laughs an hour and dies.

Listen not, for ye shall catch
Nevermore
The sound of his finger on the latch,
Nor see him stand in the open door;
Ne'er shall see, in any guise,
Love, that laughs an hour and dies.

THE WIFE FROM THE SEA

I snatched her from her home away—
From her great waters, cool and free,
My sea-maid, in whose eyes there lay
The depths and dangers of the sea.

I brought her where faint breezes sweep
Through lanes walled in with hedges high,
And sown with luscious grass and deep
At ease the fatted pastures lie.

I gave her my poor cottage home,
The tame face of the countryside—
Who knew the waves' withdrawing foam,
The thunder of the bursting tide.

And day by day did I rejoice
To see her sit beside my door,
Nor knew that in her heart the voice
Of ocean called forever more.

Until the grace I would not give
Death gave. His mighty hand set free
My wild sea-maid, that could not live
Without her waters' liberty.

And I?—To me the fields are dear;
The steadfast earth is home to me.
Yet night by night in dreams I hear
Her spirit call me from the sea.

A STORM AT NIGHT

All night the waves broke in upon the shore
Beneath my window, and I heard the rain
With querulous, weak fingers, evermore
Beating against the pane.

And through the darkness saw—was it the sweep
Of some white sea-bird's wing above the foam,
That fain would cross those waters, wild and deep,
And find its mate and home?

Or was it—oh, dear feet, why should you leave
The halls