VI. MY LADY'S GLORY.

Strong in the regal strength of love,

Enthroned by native worth

Her sway is held on earth:

Whose soul looks downward from above

Exalted stars, whose power

Brightens the brightest flower.

Her beauty walks in happier grace

Than lightly moving fawns

O'er old elm-shadowed lawns.

A tenderness shows through her face,

And like the morning's glow,

Hints a full day below.

When site looks wide around the skies

On the sun's dazzling track,

And when shines softly back

Its glory to her open eyes,

She fills our hearts and sight

With wonder and delight.

And when tired thought my sense benumbs,

Or when past shadows roll

Their memories on my soul,

Oft breaking through the darkness comes

A solace and surprise,

Her wonder-lighted eyes.

How grand and beautiful the love

She silently conceals,

Nor save in act reveals!

She broods o'er kindness; as a dove

Sits musing in the nest

Of the life beneath her breast.

The ready freshness that was known

In man's authentic prime,

The earliest breath of time,

Throughout her household ways is shown;

Mild greatness subtly wrought

With quaint and childlike thought.

She sits to music: fingers fall,

Air shakes; her lifted voice

Makes flattered hope rejoice,

And shivering through Time's phantom pall,

Its wavering rents display

Dim splendour, far away;

Where her perfection, glory-crowned,

Shall rest in love for ever;

When mortal systems sever,

And the orbed universe is drowned,

Leaving the empty skies

The blank of death-closed eyes.

Deep in this truth I root my trust;

And know the dear One's praise,

Her mutely gracious ways,

When all her loveliness is dust

And mosses rase her name,

Will bless our world the same.

As scent of flowers her worth was born

Her joyous goodness spread

Like music over head,

Smiles now as smiles a plain of corn

When in the winds of June,

Lit by a shining noon.

A gap of sunlight in the storm;

A blossom ere the spring;

Immortal whispering;

A spirit manifest through form

Which we can touch and kiss,—

To life such beauty is.

Ah! who can doubt, though he may doubt

Our solid earth will run

A future round the sun,

That gentle impulse given out

Can never fail or die,

But throbs eternally!