n's own star and dwell
Fondly with time, in tune with bud and bell,
With midnight's shimmer of stars and the sheen of morn?

THE SOUL AND THE SEA

I hear the shouting of th' exultant sea,
Its reel and crash along the shuddering strand;
Through muffling mist the wide reverberant land
In thunderous labour laughs exultantly;
The wrestling wind's tumultuous revelry
Whips into whirling clouds the blanched sea-sand;
The primal powers in grim convulsion grand
Strive, straining agonists, frenzied to be free.

And in the lapses of the roaring gale
I hear the cries of lives that rage and weep,
That sow for ever, and that never reap;
Brave hearts that travail with all hopes that fail
Break with the breakers; with a wandering wail
Flies sorrow with white lips along the deep.

NATIONS ESTRANGED

THE VOICE OF THE MILLIONS

Bound to one triumph, of one travail born,
Doomed to one death, in one brief life we moil;
The pangs that maim us and the powers that spoil
Are common sorrows heired from worlds outworn.
Alike in weakness, time too long hath torn
Our mother, Patience, and our father, Toil.
Brothers in hatred of the fates that foil,
Say not in vain we murmur and we mourn!

O, by the love that lights our mothers' eyes,
By hearth and home, by common hopes and fears,
By all sad sweetness of the human years,
Partings, and meetings, by our infants' cries--
One are we, through the heart's divine allies,
In long allegiance to eternal tears!

THE PASSING-BELL

AN IMPRESSION

A roaring furnace, and a passing-bell;
Grim vitreous gloom, and one low, raking gleam
From a spent sun that spills its passive beam
Athwart a smouldering city. Comes the smell
Of sweat and labour. The sad, sullen knell
_Boom_s in the brain. As in a baleful dream
A panting siren, veiled with hissing steam,
Shrieks like a _loom_ing horror deep in hell.

A flaccid flood of faces, blanched with _doom_,
And raucous cries from out a blinking dark
Crowd on the callous dusk. With haunting _bark_
Death hunts his hapless victims. Heaven's sick _bloom_
Swoons in the frost. Through droning twilight--hark!
The slow, thick, ominous burden of the _tomb_.

CONDEMNED

_FIAT JUSTITIA: FIAT LUX_

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