is life, perchance,
In the dim twilight of our waking trance.

Thou art a leaf from the great Book of God,
Whose lightest word is wiser than the wise;
And, meekly resting there upon the sod,
Thou breathest upward holy mysteries,
In simple tones that steal upon the sense,
Like Childhood's prattling truth and innocence.

Then, O sweet flower, that in thy low estate
Hast in thee emblems of the life of Man,
Read to our beings whispers of the fate
That waits us at the end of Time's short span;
How short we know not--e'en the bud may be
Gather'd in harvest to eternity.

DE PROFUNDIS.

Turn thine eyes from me, Angel of Heaven--
Read not my soul, Angel of Heaven--
Sorrow is steeping my pale cheeks with weeping,
Evermore keeping her wand on my heart,
On my cold stony heart, while the tear-fountains start
To purge it from leaven too sinful for Heaven--
Read not my soul, yet, Angel of Heaven!

Why hast thou ta'en her, Angel of Heaven?
Ta'en her so soon, Angel of Heaven?
Yearning to gain her, hast thou thus slain her
Ere sin could stain her--borne her away,
Borne her far, far away, into eternal day,
Left me alone to stay--left me to weep and pray?
Why hast thou ta'en her, Angel of Heaven?
Ta'en her so soon, Angel of Heaven?

Shines the place brighter, Angel of Heaven?
Brighter for her, Angel of Heaven?
Comes there not streaming into my dreaming,
At morning's beaming, rays more divine,
Rays from her soul divine, rays giving strength to mine?
Shines she not radiantly over the skies,
Over the morning skies, ere the Earth-vapours rise,
'Twixt me and Paradise, Angel of Heaven?
_Her_ blessed Paradise, Angel of Heaven?

Turn thine eyes to me, Angel of Heaven--
Search through and through me, Angel of Heaven;
Read my soul's yearning, wild, endlessly burning,
Tumultuously spurning Fate's bitter decree,
Fate's tyrannic decree, that tore her from me,
Bore her from me to Eternity.
Merciless Reaper, no more shalt thou keep her
From fond eyes that weep her for ever and ever,
Vain thine endeavour our spirits to sever,
Take my soul with thee, Angel of Heaven,
Bear me unto her, Angel of Heaven.

THE MOTHER.

There is a land whereon the sun's warm gaze,
God-like, all-seeing, falls right down through space,
And the weak Earth, quite smitten by its rays,
Lies scorch'd and powerless with mute silent face,
Like a tranced body, where no changing glow
Te