Mother. Fear not at all: the night is still. Nothing is here that means you ill— Nothing but lamps the whole town through, And never a child awake but you.

Child. Mother, mother, speak low in my ear, Some of the things are so great and near, p. 57Some are so small and far away, I have a fear that I cannot say, What have I done, and what do I fear, And why are you crying, mother dear?

p. 57

Mother. Out in the city, sounds begin Thank the kind God, the carts come in! An hour or two more, and God is so kind, The day shall be blue in the window-blind, Then shall my child go sweetly asleep, And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.

p. 58XXVII—IN MEMORIAM F. A. S.

p. 58

Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember How of human days he lived the better part. April came to bloom and never dim December Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.

Yet

Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being Trod the flowery April blithely for a while, Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing, Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.

Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished, You alone have crossed the melancholy stream, Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.

p. 59All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason, Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a name. Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came.

p. 59

Davos, 1881.

p. 60XXVIII—TO MY FATHER

p. 60

Peace and her huge invasion to these shores Puts daily home; innumerable sails Dawn on the far horizon and draw near; Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes To our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach: Not now obscure, since thou and thine are there, And bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef, The long, resounding foreland, Pharos stands.

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