. Songs without music, rhymes and recitations. heShall win that Land, whose firm persistent force Cleaves on, with stroke unwearied, to the sea. And lo ! beside them and the rushing RiverWere bleaching skeletons, whose life-decay, Without one action towards the great For Ever,Had crumbled slowly into dust away. Thus crumbled now these idle lives of earnest swimmers in the heat and strife, Through swiftest currents of fierce human passion,Were struggling onwards to the Better Life. Sometimes they sank, amid the foaming water :—But even thus, methought, O ! better far, To fall, lik
. Songs without music, rhymes and recitations. heShall win that Land, whose firm persistent force Cleaves on, with stroke unwearied, to the sea. And lo ! beside them and the rushing RiverWere bleaching skeletons, whose life-decay, Without one action towards the great For Ever,Had crumbled slowly into dust away. Thus crumbled now these idle lives of earnest swimmers in the heat and strife, Through swiftest currents of fierce human passion,Were struggling onwards to the Better Life. Sometimes they sank, amid the foaming water :—But even thus, methought, O ! better far, To fall, like men, oercome in human coldly gaze, like statues, from afar. And some my straining eyesight followed keenly,The heroes,—nameless though in life they be^ I90 THE RIVER OF MY DREAM. Floating in evenings golden light serenelyDown to the marge of an unfathomed sea. Further I saw not ; but the sunbeams quiverOn that extremest margin ! and I knew, The stains and sorrows of the Human River,No more were seen in the Eternal blue !. 191 THE THREE MAIDENS. T SAW three Maidens, sitting in a wood. -*- A thorn, a Judas-tree, and laurel, green With never-dying hope, spread their dark shade Over them, and a runnel at their feet Laughed over pebbles, and a sand that gleamed Like silver, where the sun,thwart the black boughs, Smote it. Of these, one wore a vermeil robe. With creamy points of Venice lace, and knots Of pearl, that matched her sanguine cheek, clear eyes,Clear brow, red lips, and crisply-golden hair :And on her wrist, she bore a falcon, fainTo soar and swoop on all the singing-birdsAround ; only her hand held tight the smoothed the feathers of the warlike next, in yellow ; pale, with dusky braidsSlipt from their net ; and in her hand a flowerOf Nightshade ; motionless, a bitter smileUpon her lip. The third, from head to footWhite-robed ; a star-shaped blossom on her breast,And in her hand a mandolin, whereonHer fingers swept a tune, like wind, a
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