John Hay

“ But love and night and sleep combine In dreams to make her wholly mine. A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, Her hands and lips are warm and true. Always the fact unreal seems, And truth I find alone in dreams.
THE LIGHT OF LOVE. Each shining light above us Has its own peculiar grace; But every light of heaven Is in my darling's face. For it is like the sunlight, So strong and pure and warm, That folds all good and happy things, And guards from gloom and harm. And it is like the moonlight, So holy and so calm; The rapt peace of a summer night, When soft winds die in balm. ”

“ If Heaven would hear my prayer. I'd beg with prayers and sighs That never a tear might flow From out thy lovely eyes, If Heaven might grant it so; Mine be the tears and sighs. No cloud thy brow should cover, But smiles each other chase From lips to eyes all over Thy sweet and sunny face; The clouds my heart should cover. That all thy path be light Let darkness fall on me; If all thy days be bright, Mine black as night could be. My love would light my night. For thou art more than life, And if our fate should set Life and my love at strife, How could I then forget I love thee more than life? ”

“ But never eyes so deep and bright And loyal in their seeming, And never smiles so full of light Have shone upon my dreaming. The looks and lips so gay and wise, The thousand charms that wreathe them, —Almost I dare believe that truth Is safely shrined beneath them. Ah! do they shine, those eyes of thine, But for our own misleading? The fresh young smile, so pure and fine, Does it but mock our reading? Then faith is fled, and trust is dead, And unbelief grows duty, If fraud can wield the triple arm Of youth and wit and beauty. ”

“ Each fault must bring its penance, Each sin the avenging blade, For God upholds in justice The laws that He hath made. But Calvary stands to ransom The earth from utter loss, In shade than light more glorious, The shadow of the Cross. To heal a sick world's trouble, To soothe its woe and pain, On Calvary's sacred summit The Paschal Lamb was slain. The boundless might of Heaven Its law in mercy furled, As once the bow of promise O'erarched a drowning world. The Law said, "As you keep me, It shall be done to you;" But Calvary prays, "Forgive them; They know not what they do." ”

“ I believe we were made to be gay, And all of youth not given to love Is vainly squandered away. And strewn through life's low labours, Like gold in the desert sands, Are love's swift kisses and sighs and vows And the clasp of clinging hands. And when you are old and lonely, In Memory's magic shine You will see on your thin and wasting hands, Like gems, these kisses of mine. And when you muse at evening At the sound of some vanished name, The ghost of my kisses shall touch your lips And kindle your heart to flame. ”

“ For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom Falls far and near the shade of gloom, Cast from the hovering vulture-wings Of one dark thought of woe and doom. I know that in the snow-white pines The brave Norse fire of freedom shines, And fain for this I leave the land Where endless summer pranks the vines. O strong, free North, so wise and brave! O South, too lovely for a slave! Why read ye not the changeless truth,— The free can conquer but to save? May God upon these shining sands Send Love and Victory clasping hands, And Freedom's banners wave in peace For ever o'er the rescued lands! ”

“ And as we read the sounding rhyme, The reverent fancy hears The ghostly ring of the viewless swords And the clash of the spectral spears. We think with imperious questionings Of the brothers whom we have lost, And we strive to track in death's mystery The flight of each valiant ghost. The Northern myth comes back to us, And we feel, through our sorrow's night, That those young souls are striving still Somewhere for the truth and light. It was not their time for rest and sleep; Their hearts beat high and strong; In their fresh veins the blood of youth Was singing its hot, sweet song. ”

“ She grovelled on the marble floor, And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er. And suddenly upon the air There fell the answer to her prayer: "Bring me to-night a lotus tied With thread from a house where none has died." She rose, and laughed with thankful joy, Sure that the god would save the boy. She found a lotus by the stream; She plucked it from its noonday dream, And then from door to door she fared, To ask what house by Death was spared. Her heart grew cold to see the eyes Of all dilate with slow surprise: "Kilvani, thou hast lost thy head; Nothing can help a child that's dead. ”

“ Against all comers I sat with lance In rest, and, drunk with my joy, I sware Defiance and scorn to the world's worst chance. In vain! for soon unhorsed I lay At the feet of the strong god Circumstance— And never again shall break the day, And never again shall fall the night, That shall light me, or shield me, on my way To the presence of my sad soul's delight. Her dead love comes like a passionate ghost To mourn the Body it held so light, And Fate, like a hound with a purpose lost, Goes round bewildered with shame and fright. ”

“ And he grew ashamed of his useless life, And his maladies hatched in gloom; He opened his windows and let the air Of the free heaven into his room. And out he went in the world and toiled In his own appointed way; And the people blessed him, the land was glad, And the King was well and gay.
A WOMAN'S LOVE. A sentinel angel sitting high in glory Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: "Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story! "I loved,—and, blind with passionate love, I fell. Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell. For God is just, and death for sin is well. ”

“ A thousand delicate fancies glance and play On every object which her robes have fanned, And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand In the sweet memory of her beauty's ray. Ah! could that glass but hold the faintest trace Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, The clustering glory of the shadowy hair That framed so well the dear young angel face! But no, it shows my own face, full of care, And my heart is her beauty's dwelling place.
DREAMS. I love a woman tenderly, But cannot know if she loves me. I press her hand, her lips I kiss, But still love's full assurance miss. ”

“ For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, My fancy sees, by love refined, A warmer and a dearer charm By wedlock's mystic hands entwined,— A golden coil of wifely cares That years have forged, the loving joy That guards the curly-headed boy Asleep an hour ago upstairs. A fair young mother, pure as fair, A matron heart and virgin soul! The flickering light that crowns her hair Seems like a saintly aureole. A tender sense upon me falls That joy unmerited is mine, And in this pleasant twilight shine My perfect bliss myself appals. ”

“ By gates of gold and ivory, By wattled huts of poverty, The same refrain heard poor Kilvani, THE LIVING ARE FEW, THE DEAD ARE MANY. The evening came—so still and fleet— And overtook her hurrying feet. And, heartsick, by the sacred fane She fell, and prayed the god again. She sobbed and beat her bursting breast: "Ah, thou hast mocked me, Mightiest! Lo! I have wandered far and wide; There stands no house where none hath died." And Buddha answered, in a tone Soft as a flute at twilight blown, But grand as heaven and strong as death To him who hears with ears of faith: "Child, thou art answered. ”

“ For the shame of Aspromonte, And the stain of Mentana's sod, But forged the curse of kings that sprang From your breaking hearts to God! We lift our souls to Thee, O Lord Of Liberty and of Light! Let not earth's kings pollute the work That was done in their despite; Let not Thy light be darkened In the shade of a sordid crown, Nor pampered swine devour the fruit Thou shook'st with an earthquake down! Let the People come to their birthright, And crosier and crown pass away Like phantasms that flit o'er the marshes At the glance of the clean, white day. ”

“ I strove as at a joust To gain at end the guerdon of her smile. And ever, as in the dense melee I dashed, Her name burst from my lips, as lightning breaks Out of the plunging wrack of summer storms. O my lost love! Bright o'er the waste of years— That bliss and beauty shines upon my soul; As far beyond yon desert hangs the sun, Gilding with tender beam the barren stretch Of sands that intervene. In this still light The old sweet memories glimmer back to me, Fair summers of my youth,—the idle days I wandered in the bosky coverts hid In the dim woods that girt my ancient home ”

“ The spectre army fades Far up the glimmering hill, But, vaguely lingering still, A group of shuddering shades Infects the pallid air, Growing dimmer as day invades The hush of the dusky square. There is one that seems a King, As if the ghost of a Crown Still shadowed his jail-bleached hair; I can hear the guillotine ring, As its regicide note rang there, When he laid his tired life down And grew brave in his last despair. And a woman frail and fair Who weeps at leaving a world Of love and revel and sin In the vast Unknown to be hurled ”