As thrills the chance-awakened head that lies
In trivial sleep on the habitual bed.

'Twas yet some hours ere light;
And many, many, many a break of day
Had she outwatched the dying; but this night
Shortened her vigil was, briefer the way.

By dial of the clock
'Twas day in the dark above her lonely head.
"This day thou shalt be with Me." Ere the cock
Announced that day she met the Immortal Dead.

SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914

On London fell a clearer light;
Caressing pencils of the sun
Defined the distances, the white
Houses transfigured one by one,
The "long, unlovely street" impearled.
O what a sky has walked the world!

Most happy year! And out of town
The hay was prosperous, and the wheat;
The silken harvest climbed the down;
Moon after moon was heavenly-sweet
Stroking the bread within the sheaves,
Looking twixt apples and their leaves.

And while this rose made round her cup,
The armies died convulsed. And when
This chaste young silver sun went up
Softly, a thousand shattered men,
One wet corruption, heaped the plain,
After a league-long throb of pain.

Flower following tender flower; and birds,
And berries; and benignant skies
Made thrive the serried flocks and herds.--
Yonder are men shot through the eyes.
Love, hide thy face
From man's unpardonable race.

* * * * *

Who said "No man hath greater love than this,
To die to serve his friend?"
So these have loved us all unto the end.
Chide thou no more, O thou unsacrificed!
The soldier dying dies upon a kiss,
The very kiss of Christ.

TO TINTORETTO IN VENICE

_The Art of Painting had in the Primitive years looked with the light_,
_not towards it_. _Before Tintoretto's date_, _however_, _many painters
practised shadows and lights_, _and turned more or less sunwards_; _but
he set the figure between himself and a full sun_. _His work is to be
known in Venice by the splendid trick of an occluded sun and a shadow
thrown straight at the spectator_.

_Tintoretto's thronged_ "_Procession to Calvary_" _and his_
"_Crucifixion_," _incidentally named_, _are two of the greatest of his
multitude of works in Venice_.

Master, thy enterprise,
Magnificent, magnanimous, was well done,
Which seized, the head of Art,