SPEAKERS TO GOD.

First Speaker.

Eastward I went and Westward, North and South, And the wind blew me from deep zone to zone; Many strong women did I love; my mouth

I gave for kisses, rose, and straight was gone.

I fought with heroes; there was joyous play
Of swords; my cities rose in every land;
Then forth I fared. O God, thou knowest, I lay
Ever within the hollow of thy hand.

Second Speaker.

I am borne out to thee upon the wave,

And the land lessens; cry nor speech I hear, Nought but the leaping waters and the brave

Pure winds commingling. O the joy, the fear!

Alone with thee; sky's rim and ocean's rim

Touch, overhead the clear immensity

Is merely God; no eyes of seraphim

Thus it shall be a lifetime,-ne'er to meet;

A trackless land divides us lone and long; Others, who seek Him, find, run swift to greet Their Friend, approach the bridegroom's door

with song.

I stand, nor dare affirm I see or hear;

How should I dream, when strict is my employ? Yet if some time, far hence, thou drawest near

Shall there be any joy like to our joy?

POESIA.

(To a Painter.)

Paint her with robe and girdle laid aside,
Without a jewel upon her; you must hide
By sleight of artist from the gazer's view
No whit of her fair body; calm and true
Her eyes must meet our passion, as aware
The world is beautiful, and she being fair
A part of it. She needs be no more pure

Than a dove is, nor could one well endure
More faultlessness than of a sovran rose,
Reserved, yet liberal to each breeze that blows.
Let her be all revealed, nor therefore less
A mystery of unsearchable loveliness;
There must be no discoveries to be made,
Save as a noonday sky with not a shade

Or floating cloud of Summer to the eye
Which drinks its light admits discovery.

Did common raiment hide her could we know

How hopeless were the rash attempt to throw Sideways the veil which guards her womanhood? Therefore her sacred vesture must elude

All mortal touch, and let her welcome well

Each comer, being still unapproachable.

Plant firm on Earth her feet, as though her own Its harvests were, and, for she would be known Fearless not fugitive, interpose no bar

'Twixt us and her, Love's radiant avatar,

No more to be possessed than sunsets are.

MUSICIANS.

I know the harps whereon the Angels play,

While in God's listening face they gaze intent,

Are these frail hearts,-yours, mine; and gently

they,

Leaning a warm breast toward the instrument, And preluding among the tremulous wires, First draw forth dreams of song, unfledged desires, Nameless regrets, sweet hopes which will not stay.

But when the passionate sense of heavenly things Possesses the musician, and his lips

Part glowing, and the shadow of his wings

Grows golden, and fire streams from finger-tips, And he is mighty, and his heart-throbs thicken, And quick intolerable pulses quicken,

How his hand lords it in among the strings!