p. 162 And when, in after years, that honoured One Returns at last unto his native land, From having wrought his last great victory, A solemn corpse; in state his people close, Solemnly to do honour to the dead, And stand in silence, mid the mournful sway p. 163Of martial music wailing he is gone Who saved them from the shackles they abhorred; And in all reverence, with tenderest hands, And tearful eyes, and hearts that burn and throb, They lower their consecrated Hero down, Down sinking slowly to his lasting rest: Whose glory rises to a settled star Lighting the land he loved for evermore. So comes my love to me: its glorious light Yet hovers sacredly, and guides me on To grander prospects, and more noble use Of powers entrusted me. Henceforth my soul Will never lack a spot whither to flee, When crowding evils war to shake my faith In righteousness: for thinking of Her life Made up of gracious act and sweet regard, Compassionately tender; and enshrined In such a form, that oft to my fond eyes She seemed divine, I scarcely can withhold My wonder Heaven could spare Her to a world So stained as ours. And now, whatever come p. 164Of wrong and bitterness to break my strength; Whatever darkness may be mine to know; A ray has pierced me from the highest heaven— I have believed in worth; and do believe. p. 163 p. 164 p. 165II. WORK. p. 165 Sweet is the moisture of the trellis-rose Dripping in music down through glistening leaves; And sweeter still its fragrance that we breathe On throwing wide our lattice to the morn. Sweet to see thrushes bright-eyed speckle-bosomed, Search dew-grey lawns with keen inspective glance; And rabbits nimbly nibble tender grasses, Or pause when startled at each other’s shade. And when the orchard boughs bend low with fruit, With joy we watch the mounded harvest wains Glide amid singing hedgerows smoothly by. ’Tis fair to watch hung pale in milky azure Mist slowly closing into wandering cloud Driven by the clean and light elastic wind; And through that lone harmonious sunshine hum p. 166Of unseen life mark how the floating seeds Pass like flown fancies out beyond regard. p. 166 But sweeter than all roses, sights of birds, Richer than fruit, more than whole lands of corn, Fairer than glories of the brightest day, Dearer than any old familiar sound Of childhood hours, than every glittering joy Thrown from the teeming fountain of the earth, Is our impulsive answer to the
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